Standing on Thin Ice
by adrenalineguts
Summary: Adjusting to the world and himself as an ex-assassin becomes difficult for Bucky Barnes. Until he crosses paths with a quirky, young librarian named Eva, Bucky's eyes open up to a whole new chapter of the future. Winter Soldier/OC
1. Baby Steps

"Your blood work looks normal," the woman said, flipping through a clipboard. "So does your respiratory and immune tests."

He didn't say anything. He never said much, really. He gave a slight curt nod, but kept staring straight ahead at the white, windowless walls. His dark hair fell over him like a veil, shielding his blue eyes. The physician didn't mind, though, knowing that this was his normal behavior and had always been so for the past few months.

The physician placed the earbuds of a stethoscope in her ears and placed the end piece over the left side of his bare chest. After a few minutes, she hastily scribbled on her clipboard. She sat down at her desk and looked through the past physicals. A moment later, the physician turned back to look at him.

"How many hours of sleep are you having per night, James?"

"Six," he answered, his voice was barely audible and raw, like he hadn't spoken for years.

It was a lie. He'd only sleep for two hours every night, or sometimes not at all. He was exhausted but kept up the façade that he was well rested.

"Any new memories?" He shook his head. "Same nightmares?" This time he nodded.

It was always the same questions, the same answers, the same optimism and apathy radiating from the two people in the room. The nightmares haven't let up since Steve Rogers brought him to the underground base of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, and from time to time he resented the blond when he wondered if his mental health would've been better had he not come. But he was here now, and leaving wouldn't be possible.

"Is there any pain in your shoulder?" The physician nodded to his left arm, which shined under the bright white light.

He barely shrugged. "It's dull." More scribbling.

"Alright, James," she took off her glasses, rubbing the wrinkles along her eyes. "We're done here. Have a pleasant day."

His face didn't even twitch, not even a small smile. He pulled on his sweater over his chest and pushed himself off the examination table. He exited the room, with Steve waiting on the other side. The brunet walked passed him down the newly renovated walls, courtesy of Tony Stark's generous donation. Steve walked in step next to him as they made their way to the steel elevator.

"Want to eat at the café?" Steve asked, trying to offer him a smile as he pressed the button.

"No."

"Aw, come on, Buck," he followed the man into the elevator when it opened. "When was the last time you ate?"

Bucky ignored him, pressing the button to the fifth floor and made their descent. Steve stayed silent for a moment, eyeing his old friend, half hoping Bucky would suddenly spring back to his old self, the one from seventy years ago. It was hard to interact with the dark haired man when he barely gave anyone a glance or replied in short answers, or hardly any acknowledgement when he had this wall built up around him. Steve didn't blame Bucky, he understood his situation, and didn't wish to force anything on his friend, but he thought it was rather lonely. As time had went on, he noticed that Bucky had barely made an effort to ask a question or to have a conversation. The only people he _did _talk to was Steve, but that was all on Steve's part to force some human communication on him, and Natasha. But when the redhead did talk to him, it was just rile him up a bit and that was when they saw the most out of Bucky spilling out of his mouth in irritated bursts. But other than that he was mostly withdrawn.

Not a lot had changed since Steve had brought Bucky back after ten months of searching. He remembered when he and Sam had stopped by a pub to have a drink in Frankfurt, and upon entering he immediately spotted his friend leaning against the bar. Bucky was looking into his drink, a small bowl of peanuts beside him, wearing a large coat and a baseball cap hiding his fully bearded face. Steve remembered confronting his long-lost friend and nearly begged him to return to D.C., to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Of course, Bucky had been reluctant and almost punched Steve when he had been confronted, but he eventually gave in, knowing it would shut the blond up.

When they arrived to the newly built and underground (it was unknown to the government and public ever since the helicarrier incident) S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky was immediately restrained by Fury, and Steve angrily questioned him. To which Fury replied, "Just in case." Bucky was in a room for questioning by Agent Hill and then examined by the physician, and when they decided he was checked out as no threat, S.H.I.E.L.D. took him in. But Fury, however didn't instill any trust him and had him live within the base and not step foot outside until he proved he could handle it. But not everyone thought he could handle life outside the base's safety, even Steve had a few doubts. Bucky was cautious about the idea, of setting foot onto the streets and getting bombarded with looks of fear and intolerance. But it was the thought of him suddenly snapping and going into a killing frenzy.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Steve asked again.

"Whatever you want," Bucky shrugged which made Steve sigh.

The two got off on the fifth floor and walked down the newly painted and floored halls (again, courtesy of Tony Stark). The fifth floor was built mainly as living quarters for agents, for those with living difficulties because of the information that was leaked to the internet or to be closer for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s missions, like Agent Barton for example. Fury had Bucky settle into one of the small apartments for close supervision. Bucky unlocked his door, the fourth one on the right, while Steve rambled on about nonsense; when Steve rambled, the brunet would start to tune out.

The inside of the apartment was furnished nicely with antique furniture and pale green walls, which was mostly Steve and Natasha's doing. The style was similar to that of the nineteen forties, which the blond man secretly hoped would help Bucky's memories resurface. The Captain even bought a record player and several records of forties jazz and swing and a record of Brian Crain's solo piano. That was actually the only thing Bucky seemed to use and only listened to Brian Crain while the computer and flat screen TV were barely touched.

Bucky went straight for the couch to lay down, resting his right arm over his face while his metal arm rested on his stomach. It was only noon and he felt completely exhausted, the weight of the previous night's lack of sleep making his head heavy. Steve made his way into the kitchen, taking the liberty of making himself a pastrami sandwich; most of the food in Bucky's small kitchen was devoured by Steve due to Bucky's lack of appetite.

When Steve wasn't on his missions, he was usually at Bucky's, eating or watching old reruns or trying to make conversation with the former Winter Soldier. There were times when Bucky did appreciate Steve's company, showing bits of gratitude when he'd suddenly remember a lost memory due to the blond's many habits, or pulling him out of his recurring nightmares. But sometimes it was hard to be around Steve; the fact that Bucky had tried to kill him and suppressing the urge to annihilate Steve ate away at him. Steve used to be his _mission_ and here he was, letting Captain America eat his food.

Steve nudged Bucky's legs a little to sit down beside him. The one thing Steve enjoyed about the twenty-first century was the ability to watch television and eat at the same time. It was something he looked forward to after coming home from a long, hard mission.

A knock on the door interrupted the peace in the room.

"I'm coming in." The door opened with Natasha bustling in, wearing her civilian clothes. She waved an envelope above her head that had Fury's seal on the outside. "For you, Barnes."

Bucky took it without even glancing at her. She sat in the armchair, crossing her legs with an expectant look while he opened it. A letter fell out and his eyes scanned over it, slight confusion dawning his face.

"Good behavior?" He looked over to the smirking woman. "_Release_?"

Steve finished his last bite. "What's this about a release?"

"Well, as of today Fury is allowing you to leave the base when you please," Natasha explained while she examined her manicure. "Of course, you have to report every now and then to keep them updated. Good behavior does pay off, doesn't it, Barnes?"

Bucky slightly narrowed his eyes at her. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just that you're given the liberty to roam around but always come back for your checkups and whatnot. And Fury said to not let this get to your head; he still doesn't trust you."

"It sounds like he thinks I'm a housecat," he muttered.

Steve slapped his knee. "This is good news, Buck. Don't you want to go out and do something?"

"No."

"You keep hiding out in here, people will start to think you're creepy," Natasha yawned.

"Come on, name a place," Steve was very persistent. "We'll go anywhere you like. Movie theater?"

"No," the brunet felt his headache coming back.

"The mall?"

"No, too many people."

"Give it up, Cap," Natasha rose and stretched the muscles in her back. "He's just antisocial. Now if you'll both excuse me, I have errands to run, like _normal people."_

Bucky crumpled up the paper and threw it at her, which the redhead only dodged. He exhaled the short breath he had been holding in when he heard the door shut. He wasn't fond of Natasha's badgering to be a little normal. He wasn't even sure what normal is; he wasn't even sure if Natasha _herself_ was normal. Steve washed his plate and placed it on the drying rack.

"You didn't sleep again," Steve noted, shifting his gaze to his friend on the couch. He knew everything just by taking one glance.

Bucky shut his eyes. "Yes."

"Nightmares again?" Bucky nodded. "Maybe they can prescribe someth-"

"_No._" He snapped, making Steve frown. "No pills."

"Any progress on your memories, then?" Steve quickly changed the subject.

"Just Hydra. And the train in the mountains." Bucky's face pinched in discomfort when his shoulder began to ache at the memories. There were times when he'd come across something, trying to distinguish if whether or not it was a memory or nightmare. It was often that Bucky had been trapped between the two, violently shaking and losing himself within the madness and frustration of finding himself in the mess of his mind. It was when Steve would pull him back into the fabric of reality, snapping into a cold sweat and dealing with the ache in his left shoulder. It was worse at night, when he would actually fall asleep, because no one was there to wake him up. Steve wasn't there to pull him out of the never ending darkness; the only thing that could wake him up was his screams and Bucky would find himself alone in his sweat soaked bed sheets.

Optimism wasn't really his cup of tea.

The blond sighed again, looking at the man who was crumpled up on the couch. He would've laughed for the fact that the couch was too small for Bucky's large form, causing his legs to dangle off the side. But this... this was just _sad._ He didn't blame the poor guy for his constant self loathing and dark thoughts, but there were times when Steve wanted to force Bucky to swallow an entire bottle of Xanax and become the good ol', fun Bucky Barnes that he once was.

A few hours afterwards, Steve left Bucky to his thoughts and went home, promising to come back the next day. The only thing that Bucky was left with was silence and his even breathing. He hadn't left his place on the couch, staring at the ceiling for so long that everything merged into the color of cream. He'd been lying there for hours, but this was usually his daily routine.

It wasn't the fact that he had nothing to do (which was true because the ex-assassin was stuck into the pit of boredom) but he was just too _afraid _to do anything. The last thing he did before coming to S.H.I.E.L.D. was get drunk in Germany, and before that he had killed several people during the Project Insight incident. Deep down whether he liked it or not, he couldn't risk participating in anything with the risk of accidentally killing anyone. Locked away in his mind, the Winter Soldier part of him shook and gnawed at the bars, threatening to spring back and crush a skull beneath his fingertips.

After a while his back began to whine in protest after being in such an uncomfortable position for a long time. He sat up, rubbing his right hand over his face and his heavy eyes. His feet dragged along the floor into the kitchen where he filled a glass with water, bringing the glass to his lips. He set the glass down and stared down into the kitchen drain, wondering to himself how far down it went into the darkness. That was his life, a kitchen drain full of leftovers and crap and murky water.

Bucky Barnes was the most depressing person alive. If there was an award for being the most depressing, he'd most definitely win it.

The crumpled letter he had thrown at Natasha was still on the floor. Bucky picked it up and smoothed it, re-reading it again.

"_...Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes has proved to be in standard health physically and to an extent his mental state is in terms acceptable. Due to regular, calm behavior, Sergeant Barnes has earned S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust should he continue to suppress urges to harm the public and avoid possible confrontation with Hydra. Therefore, Sergeant Barnes has earned the right to set foot off S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and reside within the city by choice so long as he..._"

Bucky snorted quietly to himself when he had read the part about his mental state. They had _no idea _what his mental state was like. It was strange though, the idea of having freedom felt foreign in his head. For as long as he had been with Hydra, the idea of freedom had never existed nor had it ever crossed his mind. He didn't even have the ability to think for himself, only addressing his rage and will to kill. When he actually made a decision for himself for the first time, he panicked and punched a hole into a wall. Nowadays, however, his mind just shut down, mostly because of exhaustion and not knowing _what_ to think about.

A tiny little voice inside Bucky, one he tried to stamp down into the dirt, wondered if it would be alright to go out into public for a little while. He rubbed his temples, sighing. Sometimes thinking for himself was harder than keeping himself from going wild and killing everyone.

He threw the letter on his coffee table and went to his room, falling onto his bed with a thump. It was sometimes hard to lie on his bed; his body wasn't used to something so soft. For decades his body always rested on something that felt like a rock. He felt as if he'd melt through. Bucky stared up at the dark ceiling, another night filled with horrors and wide eyes.

* * *

For the next few days whenever Steve wasn't looking, Bucky would always glance at the wrinkled letter on the coffee table. Despite the fact that he could care less, he was drawn to the piece of paper. It was always the part that said, "..._the right to set foot_..." that kept receiving his attention. It itched away at his mind, an unidentifiable urge to do _something_. He'd sit at the couch, arms crossed and shaking his leg before picking up the letter, reading it, then setting it back down. He'd get up and pace, running a hand through his greasy hair (God knows how long it's been since he's washed it) and walk back over to reread the goddamn letter.

It wasn't until one day that Bucky had shoved Steve's coat into his chest, muttering with great irritation that he wanted to go somewhere.

"What?" Steve blinked, looking at the ex-assassin as if he'd gone crazy and killed someone, which wouldn't be a surprise. The brunet always looked like he was about to kill someone.

"I want to go out," Bucky scowled, shoving his hair underneath a baseball cap. He pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and glove over his metal hand "Don't make me change my mind."

It took a moment for Steve to understand what Bucky was asking before a blinding grin grew on his face. He threw his jacket on and the two left the quiet apartment. The walk into the suburbs of D.C. wasn't very long from the base, about a twenty minute walk. It was a busy Tuesday afternoon, the October chill settling in the air even though the sun shined. Bucky kept his eyes on the ground, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with all people in the streets, whereas Steve breathed in the fresh air.

They looked like an odd pair; Captain America walking the streets with a big smile on his face while the former assassin was glaring from underneath his hat at every person who had the misfortune of setting their eyes on him.

"So is there any place you wanted to go in mind?" Steve asked him after crossing a street.

Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip. "I actually didn't think I'd get this far."

The blond laughed lightly. "Well, do you have an idea?"

"Somewhere quiet."

"The park?"

"And with a minimal amount of people."

"Have you been to the library?" Bucky shook his head. "Let's go there, minimal people and it's quiet. There's something I've been meaning to read anyway."

The brunet grunted and followed Steve through the busy streets. His skin itched when he walked past people, his hands flexing inside the pockets where he stuffed them in his jeans. Every time they passed an alleyway, he felt the need to bolt down the murky darkness and hide. Isolating himself for so long really took it's toll on him. All the sounds around him flooded his ears. The birds chirping, the sound of engines and tires, people chatting away amongst themselves or on their phones... the sounds meshed together into one giant hum of white noise that made Bucky's ears ring. He pulled his flesh hand out of his pocket and rubbed his temple, trying to rid the pulsing within his head.

The two super-soldiers passed many shops that people walked in and out of. There was a bustling bakery they passed that emitted a delicious smell, filled with cakes and sweet breads. A memory triggered and flashed beneath his eyelids: his mother baking rolls for dinner. The memory was a little fuzzy, but the aroma was so clear. The little voice wondered if it would be alright to stop by on the way back.

The library was one of the older buildings in town. It was large with red brick walls and white sculpted pillars in the front. The borders along the windows were also painted a coat of white. At the second level, a large balcony looked over the city, a place where the public could read or study, only no one was there because of the chill in the air. Two small lion statues were placed on either side of the concrete steps to the entrance and a sign with magnetic letters informed the public of their open hours.

Steve held the door open for Bucky and the two were met with tall bookcases, going all the way to the back wall. A staircase was in front of the door, where more bookcases stood at the top floor. Just as Steve had said, it was quiet and very few people were there as well as for the few librarians. Whenever someone coughed, it echoed throughout the whole building.

"I'm going to look at this row here," Steve turned to his friend. "Take a look around."

Before he could say anything, Bucky had watched Steve disappear into the shelves and he was left all alone. He sighed, hoping it wasn't loud enough to echo. His feet took him to the staircase and he held on to the carved, wooden railing. It squeaked under his weight when he ascended the steps. His nose tickled when he breathed in the dusty, papyrus-scented air. He wandered through the rows that towered over him, glancing at the many tables with glowing lamps situated on top of the dark wood. A few students from the nearby university were studying, piles of books resting by their heads, not taking any notice to Bucky.

He was reminded of one of his past missions, when he had assassinated a senator in a library similar to this one. The violent piece of him that was locked away inside of them craved to see him use his arm to bash one of the student's head through the desk. A chill ran down his spine and he shook off the image.

He looked at every book on every shelf, taking note of which ones were more frequently checked out to the ones that hadn't been touched in years. Some were coated in dust so thick that he couldn't make out the title or author. Eventually he had wandered into the "classics" section, stopping to look at some titles he had never even seen. He picked up a worn copy of _The Great Gatsby _and noticed that its copyright was dated back into the nineteen twenties, wondering if maybe he had read the book in his past life.

His body tensed up when he heard a scuffling sound followed by a light whine a few rows behind him. He put the book back in its place on the shelf and slowly moved along the sides of the bookshelves, keeping every one of his footsteps mute. With his back pressed firmly against the wood, he tilted his head to peer around the corner.

A girl stood on a small ladder, a stack of books in one arm while the other tried to reach as far as it could to a high shelf. Her face was scrunched up in concentration while her glasses rested precariously on the tip of her nose. Her head was tilted so far back that her hair band was starting to slide off her bobbed, dark brown hair. Bucky's muscles relaxed when he realized he had been alert for nothing. The ladder was teetering when her feet stood on her toes, and Bucky already foresaw her fall when the girl wobbled dangerously and lost her balance.

She made a small squeak when the air rushed out from beneath her and Bucky's legs moved so fast, arms already up to catch her as she fell. The books dropped around them, thudding and echoing off the walls. The girl looked up at Bucky with surprise, eyes magnified from her large glasses. He looked back down at her with just as much surprise sprawled across his face.

Relief flooded her face. "Oh, God, _thank you_. Jeez, a second sooner and I'd have broke my neck."

Bucky set her down gently. "Ye... yeah."

"Seriously, thanks, I owe you one," she said as she smoothed her sweater out and bent down to pick up the books.

Bucky had somehow followed her to the floor and collected them into a stack. His eyes flickered to her face, seeing that her glasses were now tucked into the pocket of her sweater, making her brown eyes appear normal sized rather than buggy. A nametag was pinned to the front, reading, "Eva" with little stars doodled around it. She tucked a short piece of dark hair behind her ear and he pondered if girls usually cut their hair as short as a boy's. He mentally rolled his eyes, because his hair wasn't exactly cut to a guy's standards.

She looked up at him and a sudden heat burned his ears when he didn't look back down fast enough. She squinted at him which made the man puzzled for a moment. He grew uncomfortable at the way she squinted him down with her light pink lips pursed in thought.

"World War Two," she said suddenly.

Bucky's face paled and he suddenly wondered if the girl knew about who he was and the events that happened in the nineteen forties.

"What?" He managed to spit out.

"You're looking for novels related to World War Two, right?"

Oh. _Books_. He let out an internal sigh of relief. He looked up slightly to see the sign hanging behind her indicating that this was the World War Two novel section. He nodded as if to go with what she said.

"Yes... World War Two."

She gave him a smile, standing up to set the stack of books on the ladder and Bucky followed suit. He watched her look up at the shelves, fingertips drumming against her lips before reaching to pull out a paperback book. She handed it to him, smile still etched on her face.

"_Night_ by Elie Weisel," she told him. "One of the greatest books I've ever read. Sad, heart-breaking, soul crushing, but nevertheless one of the greatest."

He stared down at the dark cover before looking back up at her again.

"Thank you... uh..."

"Eva," she tapped a finger against her nametag that he'd already forgotten about. "And you're welcome."

Bucky kept moving his eyes from the cover to the girl's, Eva's, face. He shoved his left hand in his pocket and held the book to his side in his right.

"Right, so..." he cleared his throat. "I should... probably, uh... get... get going now."

She just smiled again, making Bucky wonder if the girl was ever not smiling. "Alright. Hope you enjoy the book."

He nodded. "Thanks again."

He went to turn the corner and heard Eva say, "See you next time."

He walked away quickly and swiftly down the staircase, heat creeping up his neck and ears. He couldn't tell _what_ exactly was wrong with him, but he suddenly felt silly for coming here, for leaving the security of his apartment. He could care less about being socially inept; Bucky just wanted to find Steve and leave the goddamn place. It took him a few minutes to find the blond, who had a couple books in his arms. Bucky had to forcefully steer him away from the shelves and towards the checkout area.

It irritated Bucky to watch Steve take his library card out from his wallet as slowly as humanly possible. But Steve was past human, but then so was Bucky. The ex-assassin literally ripped the card out of the super-soldier's hands, sliding the card and scanning each book before Steve had time to blink. He shoved the card back in Steve's hands along with his books. Bucky took the book Eva suggested and gripped it so tightly his fingers threatened to rip through.

"Let's go already," he muttered and took off ahead of Steve.

The Captain sighed and rolled his eyes, walking quickly to catch up to his friend. The books nearly fell out of his arms when he caught the brunet's arm outside of a diner.

"Bucky, talk to me," Steve felt as if the other man was going to throw a sudden punch. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Bucky's head whipped around to glare at him, strands of his hair falling out from the baseball cap; he should really invest in a hair tie.

"Nothing happened. I just feel weird and want to get back to the base."

Steve blew the air out of his mouth before nodding and not questioning Bucky any further. They managed to get back to headquarters before the evening traffic, without the two of them uttering a word to each other. Steve was pulled away from Bucky when Agent Hill caught up to them by handing him a folder on his next mission. He gave Bucky an apologetic look and promised to catch up with him later. The dark haired man sighed to himself, taking the letter and unlocking his apartment.

He threw the book onto the coffee table and fell onto the couch. The clock on the far wall ticked away and once again, Bucky was met with the crushingly empty silence he always faced.


	2. Open Cages

The sudden ache in his left shoulder, where the metal met the flesh, made the whole left side of Bucky's body crawl. His right hand gripped his shoulder and he gritted his teeth. Every once in a while, his shoulder would explode with sudden spasms of pain. He popped in Tylenol pills without any water. At first he was weary of the painkillers, but when Steve took one himself Bucky decided that it probably wasn't too bad. But he took about eight, which was higher than the recommendation on the bottle for the average person. But then again, Bucky wasn't the average person.

He sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. His tired eyes shifted their gaze around his small home; there were no windows at all, reminding him of the dark rooms Hydra held him in to run experiments and tests on him. Bucky sighed, at least this cage was cleaner and brighter. He thought about what it would be like if he had windows, if it would be brighter than it was at the moment. Then his thoughts drifted to what his past life may have been like, if his life had open windows that weren't forced shut.

There were things that always bothered the former assassin, like if his life was actually somewhat fulfilling before his tragic fall off the train. Bucky wondered about all the things he had left behind, friends, family... they were all gone except for Steve. But even now he barely knew Steve, even though the blond told him everything about him and what Bucky meant to him. Bucky couldn't feel _anything_ about Steve's importance and what kind of an aura he had when he was with people that cared for him. It was all the more upsetting when Bucky thought about how Steve still had the ability to get enveloped in wonderful memories while he was stuck with a cloudy blank. He remembered Steve telling him that before the serum, he'd be the one saving a scrawny Steve from fights, which was hard to believe considering the man is gargantuan. And the other thing Steve had said about him was being rather popular with everyone, especially the women.

That was also hard to believe, because every person who had ever looked at him regarded him with fear. But then Bucky remembered the girl from a few days ago. What was her name?

_Eva_, he thought, _her name was Eva._

He remembered that the look he had gotten from her wasn't that of fear, but of surprise. He laughed quietly to himself when he thought about how ridiculous those thick glasses made her eyes look.

Bucky's eyes had drooped without his noticing, and he had started to doze a little. Suddenly he was being strapped to a cracked, leather chair, exposed under a green light. His heart raced and he could hear its beating and the rushing of blood in his eardrums. Men in white stabbed him with syringes and electricity ran through his veins. They were talking loudly, or so it seemed, ignoring his screams. Machines were all around him, whining and spinning and beeping. The metal bonded to his arm sent cold waves of shock through his nerves and down his spine. His eyes darted crazily, searching for a way out but there were no windows and every door was barred and guarded. The voltage fired into his brain, earning more blood curdling screams and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. His eyes squinted through the dull light, and that was when a short, pudgy man's face hovered above him, Arnim Zola. The pain in Bucky's left shoulder became unbearable, and that was when his eyes flew open.

He looked down at his metal arm to see that it had snapped off a piece of wood from the kitchen table from his grip. He brushed the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, breathing in a large gulp of air and then releasing it. He downed a couple cups of water quickly, trying to wash away the metallic taste of blood from his mouth. He had managed to bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The clock's ticking grew louder and it started to give him a headache.

Bucky laid face down on the couch, metal arm hanging over the side. It was a quiet day and uneventful as per usual. Most days were like this when he wasn't having his physical. Steve was off on a mission with Natasha and Sam, investigating a possible hidden Hydra base, and wouldn't be back for a few days. Bucky assumed that it was so quiet because Steve wasn't there to talk his ear off.

His heart had clenched up, though, when the blond told him about the possible existing Hydra bases. He had thought they had all either been destroyed or disbanded by now. It made Bucky uneasy and all he could see every time he blinked was him lying in that godawful chair.

"_Cut off one head, two more shall grow in its place…"_

He shook his head and his eyes flickered to the coffee table and focused in on the book he had forgotten about. Bucky reached over and took the book, flipping himself over onto his back. He held it over his head and read the summary on the book, about how it was the true story of a victim in the Holocaust. His hands flipped through the pages back and forth, words blurring into a mess of black lines on white. The pages turned back to the very first page of the chapter. Before he even realized what he was doing, Bucky had already read five chapters.

Minutes turned to hours, and his clock chimed at three o'clock, right when he had read the very last word. He shut the book closed and rested it over his chest, his heart heavy with what he just read in the last few hours. Eva was right, he thought, it _was_ sad and heartbreaking, but it was written very well. The last time he had read a book was... well, of course he couldn't remember when the last time was, assuming that he did read in his past life. He turned the book over in his hands, leaving him with no other activity once again. He drummed his fingers on his chest, staring up at the ceiling like he had done a countless number of times.

_Night_ had fallen to the floor, which caught Bucky's attention. His hand ran over the front of the cover and wondered when the book was due to be returned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, putting the book back on the table. He popped his neck and rolled the bones in his shoulders back. The boredom had really set in and Bucky's skin began to itch.

He unthinkingly put his coat on, tying his hair back with a hair tie (he stole it from Natasha) but left his head hat free. He slipped both gloves onto his hand and wrapped a scarf around his neck that Steve had bought him a few days ago because of the cold air outside. With the book in hand, he locked his apartment door and took the elevator up to the ground level.

On the way up, it stopped at the third level and Agent Hill stepped on.

"Barnes," she greeted, clearly surprised to see him. "Where are you going?"

"Out." He just gazed at the wall beside him.

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing him and looking as if she was going to say something but pressed her mouth closed in a firm line. The agent left at the second level and soon enough Bucky had left the base and was walking into town. It was just as lively as it was a few days before and he made sure to avoid the gazes of passersby in hope they didn't recognize him as the best friend of Captain America from the Smithsonian.

He passed by the bakery again, his lungs filled with its aroma. He was almost tempted into turning around and going in for a muffin or brownie, but was held back by the fact that he only had loose change in his pockets and that there were too many people inside.

There were several stores he didn't know about. There was an internet café across the street, and beside it a twenty-four hour diner. A bridal shop was situated beside a Hallmark store, and Bucky wondered what was so special about that store beside all the greeting cards. Out of curiosity, he wanted to peek into every store and look at everyone and everything, wanting to see what the people were like and how it was all done.

Bucky stopped abruptly when he saw a window with kittens at a pet shop. The majority of them were sleeping, except for the two, one orange and the other white, that were playing. He'd seen cats before, but not when they were only some weeks old. His lips almost turned up in a smirk. He had to admit, they were kind of cute. Did he have a cat in his past life? He shook his head; it probably wasn't like him to own the animal.

Bucky came to the library some minutes later and went up the concrete steps. His hand hovered over the door but he hesitated; how'd he even make it this far on his own? The door creaked when he pushed it open, and he was met with the dusty-papyrus air once again. There was a children's section to his left that he hadn't noticed before, and a librarian sat in a chair reading a book to a small group of little kids. He grimaced, he wasn't exactly fond of children. They were always kicking, screaming, or crying because they always wanted _something_.

When he made it to the top of the stairs, he noticed that there were less people studying than before and that there were a few people looking for something to check out. He was a little more alert than usual and walked down the aisles with caution, as if someone was going to jump out and attack. Bucky followed the signs hanging above him, directing where the checkout, restroom, and return areas were. When he turned a corner, he found the return area; there was a counter and a small office behind it. There was also a door where someone could enter beside it. Bucky was half-expecting an old women to sit behind the counter, but that was where he found the girl from before. She sat on a stool, opening the covers of a large stack of books beside her and stamping the inside. Her glasses sat at the end of her nose like before and her face was scrunched up in concentration.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and carefully approached the counter. Eva didn't look up and he noticed that one of her ears had an earphone in, and he could hear the music playing. It sounded classical. He cleared his throat quietly which was enough to snap her out of her task. She smiled the same smile from before, eyes all buggy because of the glasses, and shut the book she had just stamped and pulled the earphone out.

"Hey," she removed her glasses. "The guy from last time, right?"

He nodded, sliding the book across the counter. "Finished the book."

"Oh, how'd you like it? It was great, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." He was telling the truth, too.

Bucky stood there a little awkwardly, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn't know where to go from there; the only thing he had planned was to return the book but he hadn't figured out the rest _after_ he dropped it off.

"Uh-"

"If you want, I can recommend something else on my wall," Eva suggested before he could say anything.

"O...kay."

She left her seat on her the stool and came out through the door. Bucky followed her over to a large wall covered in posters and upcoming Halloween events. Beside all the layers of papers stapled to the bulletin was a section where all the employees had lists of books they read, and each one was personalized to their liking. Eva's was one of the top at the wall, and her name was decorated with floral print and little cat stickers that were starting to peel off. Her handwriting was messy but still legible on the list she had made.

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, _Well, this is it_.

"So," she said. "Just let me know if you need any help."

"Uh-huh."

He nodded and watched Eva walk away. There was something about her that intrigued him, but Bucky didn't dig into the feeling and stored the thought away. He turned back to the wall and wasn't sure if he was actually going to read a book again. But he had already made it all the way over here and he had nothing to occupy his time with anyway. Eva's list was long, _really_ long. It had more recommendations than all the staff members and there was even an extra piece of paper stapled to the one under it.

"So she reads a lot and wears funny glasses," he mumbled under his breath.

Even Bucky could guess that she was probably one of those kids that often spent their time alone in school or at home. It was sadly obvious. It reminded Bucky of himself and how he was, except he spent his time staring at ceilings instead of reading.

Picking a book by random, Bucky strolled through the aisles, looking up and down in the fiction section. He scratched his chin with his right hand, looking for _Flowers for Algernon_. It sounded a little fruity to him, because of the title, but it was the first one on the list and he couldn't remember what other titles Eva had written. He looked for a while but couldn't locate where it was in the colossal collection of novels and began to grow a bit frustrated. As a trained assassin, he could know all about a person in a second, and if his mission was to retrieve something he'd be able to find it within minutes. This book, however, was harder to find than a needle in a haystack.

With an exasperated sigh, Bucky turned back to where he found Eva, shoulders slumped. He approached her slowly and she looked up at him.

The corner of her lip turned up in a smirk. "Need help?"

He wasn't sure how she knew but he didn't question it. He nodded and she left the counter again.

"What's it called?" She asked as she walked through the fiction section with Bucky a safe distance behind her.

"_Flowers for_... something."

"_Flowers for Algernon_?" He nodded and Eva smiled again. "Oh, so you _did_ look at my list."

He rolled his eyes and almost smiled. "Did you doubt me?"

She turned back and flashed him a toothy grin. "Most people don't, so thanks for looking at it."

"Yeah."

She stopped abruptly at one of the many bookcases and her eyes swooped at every spine of the books until she stood at the tips of her toes and reached for one of the top shelves. Her sweater rose up enough for Bucky to have a long enough glance of snow-white skin. His stomach knotted at the thought of blood staining Eva's skin, making the fingers on his left arm twitch; it took all the willpower in his whole body to beat the thought to the ground.

Eva found the book, which had a mouse and flower on the cover. Just as Bucky was going to take it, her hands snapped out of his reach.

"Before you read this," her face was grave and looked at him with serious eyes. "I have to warn you. This is one of the best books I have ever read and I have literally cried over it a thousand times. I guarantee that you will become so overwhelmed with emotion that this book will be all you think about forever."

Bucky blinked. "I don't cry."

"You'll get really sad."

"I don't get sad, either."

She looked at him for a moment before giving him a soft, tinkling laugh. She handed him the book.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. You'll never be the same."

Bucky rolled his eyes gently as if to say, _Whatever_. Eva left him there to get back to work. He cleared his throat, realizing that this was probably the most he's ever spoken with to a stranger. He sort of just wandered around for a few minutes before finding a secluded area beside some windows with couches. No one was occupying the area, so Bucky sat down on an old, brown leather couch. He sank so low into it that he had a brief moment of panic, thinking that he was actually going to fall through, but he didn't and he settled in. He took a deep breath in before releasing it and opened up to the first page.

Immediately his first thought after a few pages was that the author must've been illiterate because every word Bucky read was misspelled and looked as if a child was narrating. He didn't realize that it actually had a purpose until he dug in a few chapters later. He failed to see what made Eva love the book so much; he couldn't understand what intrigued her about an obtuse, middle-aged man having surgery to become intelligent.

Bucky swallowed thickly. The man had surgery in order to _become a different person_. It almost felt as if Bucky was, in a sense, reading about himself. The more he read and saw how the character's new intelligence made him literate, the more Bucky felt a new sense of some kind of understanding. He never was able to understand a person's thoughts or feelings, but as of that moment he felt so close to a fictional person. There was always a point every couple chapters where Bucky wondered if these feelings were legitimate.

The sky grew a little darker without him noticing. It was hard to break his concentration, and every word went from sentence to paragraph to page to the near end of the book. The story just got sadder and Bucky felt his stomach knot at the part where the mouse died (the assassin couldn't believe he was upset over a _mouse_) and he had to suck in a breath when the narrator's deranged mother turned him away; he didn't understand why someone was afraid of something a person couldn't change about himself. He understood. He understood what it was like to not have any acceptance or trust and be turned away and given the cold shoulder. He knew how it felt, and the words that were written summed up his pathetic life perfectly.

A voice cleared their throat just as Bucky had finished the last, most powerful sentence in _Flowers for Algernon_.

"Library closes at eight," Eva stopped pushing a cart of fantasy and non-fiction novels.

Bucky rubbed his eyes and shut the book. Every time he blinked, all he saw were words. Eva smirked knowingly.

"Told you."

Bucky turned his face away so she wouldn't be able to see him roll his eyes. But she was right.

"Thanks." He stood up and handed her the book, which she took and placed in the cart.

"Anytime." She gave him her regular, bright smile.

* * *

Bucky came back the next day. He wasn't sure what compelled him to get off the couch and put clothes on and stroll through the streets of D.C., but here he was reading. If Eva was surprised to see him, she didn't show it; she just gave him a smile.

And as the week had passed, he knocked each book off the list one by one. The more time he spent at the library, the better he had gotten used to exploring public places. The library was a place that wasn't exactly crowded, but he was getting there. Steve seemed to be a little enthusiastic about his friend's newfound activity once he had come back, even though he exactly sure where Bucky disappeared off to.

Eva had become a regular person to see working there. Most of the time when he was looking for a book, she would usually help find it. Eva, too, had also began to get used to see the dark haired man come in and read on the couch; she didn't mind his presence as he didn't mind hers. There were two occasions when she hadn't come in to work, and Bucky was a little curious why she hadn't come in. He actually felt a little out of place _because_ of her absence. He didn't know why and he didn't dig any further into it.

The thing Eva had started to like about the man was how he actually took her suggestions. Most of the time when people walked in and out of the library and she'd suggest something, they almost never actually kept to it. The fact that Bucky did take her recommendations made her feel pretty good and acknowledged. It was kind of funny, actually, to see him so focused on reading where he sat on the couch which was claimed as his. At first, he seemed a little awkward, which she still thought he was and vacant of any emotion, but when Eva saw him in his own little world, the guy seemed to brighten up a little.

On one Monday afternoon, Eva was waiting for him to come in, which she knew he would. She sat her counter and grinned when he came walking up, knowing that Bucky was going to ask her for the usual help. He raised his brow, already sensing something from her.

"You've been coming here a lot," she said, locking her hands together.

"Uh-"

"And you always read here on those couches."

Bucky wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he felt a little cautious for some unknown reason. He just nodded and she continued.

"But I don't think I've seen you leave here with a book in your hands."

He wished this could end sooner and be over with. His eyes widened slightly with confusion when Eva slid a plastic card over to him.

"I made you a library card," she gave him a small, and this time shy, smile. "I figured that maybe you didn't have one, so I sort of took it upon myself to make you one. That way, if you maybe want to take one home, you can check it out."

Bucky's eyes swept from the card to Eva and back again. He picked up the card, twirling the piece of plastic within his fingertips. He scoffed softly, a smirk playing on his face. Someone who wasn't Steve actually _thought_ of him. He looked back down at Eva, who held a sharpie pen up to him to write his name on the card.

"I have still yet to learn your name," she pointed out.

He thought to himself for a minute. His name? Most of the people at the base just called him Barnes and Steve called him his usual nickname of Bucky, and then a few amount of people called him by his first name. What did normal people choose? Nickname or first name? He wasn't exactly sure but he wanted to tell her.

He took the pen from her and scribbled his name on the back of the card.

"Bucky... or James." He capped the pen. "Take your pick."

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought, and for some reason Bucky couldn't figure out the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Bucky," she said, trying out how it sounded on her tongue and she grinned. "I like it. James is a bit old fashioned, no offense."

"None taken." Bucky barely gave off the hint of a smile before stuffing the card in his jacket pocket. "Thanks... for the card."

"My pleasure," she pushed back her hair behind her ear. "Just be sure to return everything on time."

The assassin had to hold back a bark of laughter. He was trained to _always_ be on time. Missing a due date would be nothing, but Bucky didn't tell her that.

"So, _Bucky_," she grinned at the name. He kind of liked how it sounded when she said it, but he wasn't going to tell her that either. "What're you going to read today?"

"Something called the _Notebook_." He held up a paperback book.

She blinked and was silent for a moment, but then her lips curled up into a grin and she suddenly burst out laughing. Bucky's neck burned and he scowled.

"What?"

Eva waved her hand and took a deep breath to calm herself down.

"You're probably the first guy who I've ever met to actually attempt to read the _Notebook_."

He quirked his brow up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Eva wasn't able to wipe the dumb smirk off her face. "I can't believe you're actually going to read a romance novel read by millions of women, I mean, not that I'm sexist because I think guys can read whatever they want, but a guy like you-" she started to ramble embarrassingly.

"A guy like me?" He wanted her to continue.

She blushed a bit, which was a change for Bucky because he'd never seen so much color in her pale complexion.

"Well, you seem like one of those guys that like horror novels or something, like Stephen King books. It's kind of funny to see you read something so feminine."

He blinked. "I've never read Stephen King."

She smiled. "You're missing out."

He couldn't help but give her a small, crooked smile. He held up the romance novel to look at it.

"Romance, huh?"

He couldn't imagine himself, an ex-assassin credited with more than two dozen assassinations, reading a sappy love story. But he was going to do it anyway.

"You should watch the movie after you finish it," Eva told him. "The film's soundtrack makes you cry twice as hard."

"You seem to have cried for every book you have ever read."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I like something that moves me."


	3. The Ice is Warm

"Where were you yesterday?"

Steve watched his friend sit at the kitchen table, bent over a book which his whole face had disappeared into. A stack of books rested by the ex-assassin's head. Bucky didn't even so much as look at him since his eyes were transfixed onto the page. That's all he had been doing for the past week and half, reading or disappearing to God knows where. It drove the Captain mad with curiosity.

"Out," he grunted in response.

"Where?" Natasha was lounging on the loveseat, legs dangling off the side lazily.

"No where."

"You have books, so either you went to the library or mugged a poor little nerd."

Steve laughed and nodded to what the agent was saying. Bucky looked up and scowled at the woman.

"You caught me," he retorted with a snarky tone.

Natasha left her spot and quietly walked up behind him (a skill every trained assassin had) and snatched the book out his hands. He reacted by making an alarmed, irritated noise of protest. At least he remembered what page he was on. If he could, he'd grab Natasha by the hair and throw into a wall, but then if he actually did then Fury would get on his case. The red head let out a laugh in disbelief.

"_The Notebook_?" She asked incredulously. "You're kidding me?"

Bucky gritted his teeth. "Is there a law that prohibits me from reading it? Because if there is, don't hold back in telling me!" He barked out his sarcastic remark.

She chuckled to herself. "Alright, princess," she held out the novel to him, which he snatched it roughly out if her hands. "Don't get so upset."

Bucky glared at her. "Заткнись и оставь меня в покое, Романов," he spat out in Russian.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, replying back in the foreign tongue. "Сделайте мне, принцесса."

If the agent made a list describing all of her favorite pass times, pushing the former assassin's buttons would definitely be on it. Steve watched the two with mild amusement before stepping in to make sure they didn't rip each others' throats out. Bucky resumed his reading and went back to the place he was interrupted at. Natasha was back at her original spot on the loveseat.

Steve and Natasha were very curious to Bucky's abnormal behavior. They were so used to him being withdrawn and keeping to himself like he normally would. He wasn't against his friend's actions for up and leaving the apartment a lot more than usual, but Steve couldn't help wonder what Bucky was doing. He hoped to God that it wasn't something illegal, not that he doubted Bucky, but one did wonder. The brunet's reading habit was a little out of hand though; Steve would come to the apartment and find an alarming stack of books on the table, and Bucky would be able to read _all_ of them in a span of two days and come back with a new stack. It was rather suspicious, because for as long Steve had known Bucky, he had never, not even once, picked up a book. Not even before the War.

It wasn't just that, but Bucky seemed to appear slightly different. Only slightly. Like there was a newer air to him that Steve just couldn't his finger on.

He wasn't complaining, though.

Steve swallowed the bitter tang of his health shake and washed out the glass.

"But seriously," the blond sat across from Bucky and broke the silence. "Why are you reading all the time now?"

Bucky flipped to the next page without looking up. "Because I want to."

"You want to?" Natasha questioned, wondering if he was telling the truth or if she could actually see a way through the cracks of his bullshit.

He grumbled to himself, muttering how even in the quiet of his home there could never be peace.

"Can't a man have new hobbies?" He snapped, banging a metal fist against the table in agitation. Steve winced; he bought that table for him at such a high expense. It already pained him to see the missing piece Bucky broke off.

Natasha came up and bent down to his eye level where he sat. She squinted her eyes, peering into his eyes and Bucky felt as if her icy gaze was suffocating his soul, that is if he did have one. He fidgeted in his chair, growing extremely uncomfortable. Making people uncomfortable was all apart of the deal of being an acquaintance to Natasha Romanov. She hummed to herself, tapping her finger to her chin.

Bucky sent a look over to Steve that pretty much screamed, _Help me_.

"There's a girl," Natasha grinned, a glint shining in her eyes that made Bucky want to kill the woman all of a sudden. "Isn't there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said to her in the most monotonous voice that accompanied the straightest face.

"Yes, there is," she crossed her arms, letting him know that she wasn't about to let this go.

"You're mistaken."

"Don't play dumb with me."

"You're entering dangerous territory."

"What's her name?"

"There's no girl."

"What does she look like?"

"_I'll kill you_."

"Do you like her?"

"I'm not telling you."

"So there _is_ a girl."

Bucky groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. He shut the book closed and put his head in his hands, thinking off all the ways he could dispose of the agent. This was so completely immature and suddenly he was sucked into the hurricane that was Natasha Romanov.

"Seriously, Buck," Steve said with a big annoying grin on his face. Bucky decided that once he killed Natasha, Steve would be next. "You're reading because of a girl?"

"_No_," He stressed his disagreement out. "I actually do enjoy reading books. I'm... _I like the library._"

"Wow, you actually like something," Natasha snorted.

He turned to her. "Is that such a crime?"

She ignored the question and asked him, "Does she work at the library?" Bucky didn't answer. "A librarian, huh? Kinky."

"Okay, this conversation is over."

Bucky stood up and grabbed his coat and scarf and gloves. With his book in hand, he made his way towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Steve frowned.

"Out."

"Aw, come on, Buck..." the blond sighed in defeat.

"Use protection!" Natasha's laugh followed him before the door slammed shut.

* * *

He didn't know exactly where he was going but Bucky ended up finding himself in front of the library. The door was locked, though, when he tried to pull on it. He sighed and remembered that today was Sunday; libraries were closed early on that day.

He groaned, turning on his heel and walked. He was just wandering aimlessly for a while through the streets of D.C. and saw a lot more the city than he normally did. He was so used to the street he took to the library that he almost felt as if he was in a another city. There were a lot more townhomes and shops and restaurants, but a lot less people were out at this time. Cars were parked by meters and a group of teenagers crossed the street, laughing and talking in loud, obnoxious voices that made Bucky's insides crawl.

He felt the breeze pick up and it whipped the strands on his head around his face. He wished he hadn't forgotten to tie his hair up. The bitter cold of the breeze made his ears and nose go red. He could feel the metal of his arm go cold, but he wasn't completely bothered by it. He was warm for the most part, and his annoyance towards the Natasha and Steve fueled his agitation. He also realized that that was the most he had ever spoken in long time with the two, but it still contained the fiery will to destroy. They were complete boneheads, he thought to himself. Thinking about them pestering him made Bucky scowl, which caused him to receive troubled looks from some of the people that walked past him.

The sky overhead turned a hazy orange and pink and the breeze lessened. Bucky found a bench that was by a tree planted in front of a office supply store. He sat down and rested his legs; he was seriously out of shape when he realized how much his feet hurt. He thought about maybe taking up that offer on running in the morning from Steve and Sam. As the cars sped by on the street, Bucky went back to the _Notebook_ and continued where he left off. He tried not to frown when he read the last few chapters. He wasn't very big on romance, but it was a good book. The difficult thing about reading it was how he wasn't able to connect at all to the characters. He thought about why it that was, but maybe it wasn't because he didn't exactly _feel_ love like the characters did. The idea of love seemed fictional and rather childish. He did like the book, but… it seemed like the idea was just a useless dream for thousands of people.

But what did he know? His memory was wiped so many times that he doesn't even know how to be or act cheerful.

He shut the book and sighed, resting his head against the back of the bench. He listened to the sounds around him, the cars driving by, people talking, birds chirping. It all surrounded him. But then there was a new sound that popped the bubble he had.

"Bucky?" He looked up and saw Eva standing there. She held a bag of bread in arms. A smile grew on her face. "Hi."

His lips twitched up into a small smile. "Hi."

Her eyes swept down to the book resting beside him. "So is it a yay or nay?"

"What?" He blinked, not familiar with the saying.

She laughed. "Did you like it or not?"

He shrugged. "I liked it but… I don't know."

"You should watch the movie," she said. "It's really good."

"Believe it when I see it."

Her normally pale face was tinted with red from the cold, and she sniffed every now and then. The last week of October was usually cold. His mouth moved faster than his brain could comprehend all of a sudden.

"Do you want to get a coffee?" His face burned not from the cold but from embarrassment. It wasn't even like him to ask such things, let alone to people that weren't Steve.

_Shit_, he thought. Not only that but he sounded so forward. Embarrassment was something he had a hard time registering and he had only been embarrassed once and it was _this very moment_. Along with his embarrassment came his confusion when her face had lit up.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "It is cold, isn't it?"

He gave her a short nod in response.

"I know a great coffeehouse a block away," Eva pointed in a certain direction. "Want to pop over there?"

He nodded again. He realized how much he was nodding and decided he should just stop doing that for a while.

"Yeah." He stood up, book in hand, and he started to walk alongside of the petite girl.

It was weird. It was _really_ weird to be walking with her like this in public. It was a change to see Eva not working at the library and doing everyday regular things that regular citizens do. It was even weirder that he was actually participating in regular civilian activities. Bucky wondered if this was what it felt like to be normal, but he had yet to learn. It couldn't be normal when he constantly felt the Winter Soldier raging within his mind. And how could a normal person be a super-soldier with a metal arm?

It was the silence that made Bucky feel strange. He couldn't tell what Eva was thinking; he was good at reading faces but behind all the smiles she gave him, Bucky had a hard time seeing the type of person she is. As far as he knew, she was extremely nice and cried a lot over literature. He could tell that she was an intelligent human being, too.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't wearing a hat or gloves, just a coat. Her nose was pink and her eyes were glossy from the frigid air. Eva wasn't wearing her glasses, but he assumed they were tucked away in her purse.

They came to a small little coffeehouse with an awning and some potted trees. Bucky held the door open for her and went inside and his nose was met with the strong aroma of coffee beans. It was weird to see all these people sitting around, most of them being college students and hipsters (Natasha explained to him what a hipster was). Bucky was glad to have that wadded ten dollar bill in his pocket.

Eva ordered a cappuccino and was about to give the cashier her debit card when Bucky's hand beat her to it.

"I'll pay," he said quietly. He knew he had to, considering it was common courtesy.

She turned to him and shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't need to-"

"I insist," he gave her that awkward little smile that suddenly felt a bit natural to him.

His mind flashed to Natasha and that stupid knowing look she always had on her face. He felt his scowl coming back and he pushed it back down. With their coffee in hand they sat at a table near the window; Bucky felt relieved that it had a view of the whole coffeehouse and was close to the door.

Eva took a sip and cradled the cup in her hands.

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully.

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's no trouble."

They took a drank from their coffee to fill some of the silence.

"I have to repay you for all those books anyway," he added with the small smirk on his lips.

She laughed softly. "Coffee is a good payment."

When Bucky laughed, he felt different, as if a ghost had somehow possessed him and its laugh made its way through Bucky's mouth. It made his stomach twist and he could feel his sudden anxiety rise up. The wall he had was shaking and he couldn't hold it up. The ugly little voice inside of him begged him to hold it up before it could crumble down. He sighed internally; he'd keep the wall up for as long as he would be able to.

"Bucky?" He snapped his eyes up to Eva's hand that waved in front of his face.

"Oh, sorry... yes?"

She smiled. "Looks like I almost lost you there. You looked a little out of it."

He gave a her a look that said he was okay. "It's been a long day."

"Tell me about it." She took a sip of her cappuccino; Bucky's coffee was already done. "I'm glad it's Sunday, I needed a short work day."

"So you can get bread?" He nodded towards the paper bag. Small talk with Eva was getting easier by the day.

She chuckled. "Well, I like bread."

Bucky was baffled by how she just couldn't stop smiling or laughing. He'd never met anyone so cheerful. How could anyone be so happy, he had thought to himself. The world was so barbaric and so many bad people, like Hydra, existed; the helicarrier incident made thousands so melancholy, but this girl, Eva, was sitting in front of him and just _smiling_. Bucky's apathy was carved so deep into him, he didn't think there was any way that a simple token of happiness could bury all the darkness inside him.

"So, what do you do when you're not at the library?" Eva rested her head on her hands.

Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "Nothing, really."

It was the truth, too. He literally did _nothing_. The only thing he did besides nothing was breathe and get enveloped in his daily self loathing. It was that or lie awake at night in fear of falling asleep. His days were just beyond depressing, but he couldn't tell her that; so he gave her his best sensible answer.

"Nothing, huh?" The corner of lip perked up. "So, you just read books all day?"

"Yeah." Eva laughed quietly at his answer. If only she knew that Bucky wasn't joking.

"What do you do all day, then?" Bucky decided to put her in the spotlight instead of him.

She finished the last of her coffee but still held the cup in her hands. "Me? I study."

"You're a student?"

She nodded. "Studying to become a nurse."

"Oh, cool." Was that what people say nowadays? Cool?

"It's nothing special, really," she had a distant look in her usually bright eyes as she spoke.

"Why? Nursing is important isn't it?" He should really keep out of another's business, he realized.

Eva ran a hand through her short hair. "I don't know, I mean, I want to help people, but it's not like I'm saving the world."

He frowned a little. "A small impact makes a great difference."

Eva smiled a little. "Did you think of that yourself?"

"What? Do I look like a dimwit?"

"On the contrary," she said. "You seem pretty intelligent."

He snorted quietly out of amusement. "Same to you."

"You know now I have to make a new list," she said after a while. "You've pretty knocked every book off."

"Sorry."

"No, it's great actually. I don't think anyone's taken anything I've said seriously before."

"Why would they not?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes people hear you, but they're actually not listening at all. Hear me, but don't see me."

The way she said it was unsettling for Bucky. She was good at switching subjects though.

"So, tell me about yourself," she leaned over. "Who is Bucky?"

He swallowed thickly. He was the Winter Soldier. If he told her that she'd up and leave, throwing her bread at him in fear. But it was a psychological question: who was he? Bucky didn't know the answer to the question. He was two things, James and Winter Soldier, but Bucky was so much closer to his violent side, the soldier side. James was slipping away into the shadows and was so close to being forgotten. He was only one thing at the moment and felt that it was the one thing that made him who he was. And that was being Bucky.

"I'm... Bucky," he said, trying to show some sanity. "Just Bucky."

"I mean your hobbies," she laughed. "What do you do for fun?"

"I dont know." Bucky shrugged, not really thinking. "I'm sort of forced into things by Steve..."

"Steve?"

Bucky internally groaned. He was suddenly spilling out details to Eva and the wall he had was teetering. But he felt almost compelled to tell her something, _anything_. What was he going to say though? Steve aka Captain America was his friend? Bucky's mind felt like it was going to melt through his ears.

"My... my friend."

She nodded slowly and hummed in thought. "Okay, so then do you work when you're not at the library?"

_God, this girl is observant_.

"Currently unemployed," he chose his words carefully.

"Oh, why?"

"There was an... um... accident."

"Were you hurt?" Eva face suddenly clouded with concern.

"You could say that." The tension in his stomach and throat was clawing at him.

"Sorry about that," she frowned. For some reason he didn't like how she looked when she frowned; he was already used to the cheerful side.

Bucky waved his hand. "It's nothing."

"Maybe if you'd like, and this just a suggestion, I can get you a job at the library."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Immediately his first thought was how could it even be possible for people like Eva to _exist_? How could anyone just be so... so _nice_? The girl barely knew him. Even if Bucky did accept Eva's offer, he probably would lose his patience and end up destroying everything from frustration. "I think I'll manage."

He hoped to whatever power on Earth that he would be able to manage.

The sky had darkened and the last sunlight of the day disappeared. Without realizing it they had stayed for a long time, but to Bucky it had only felt like a few minutes. They both realized that it was time to call it a day and stood outside of the coffeehouse, but he wasn't sure how to exactly call it a day. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted the day to end.

"So..."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then?" Eva looked at him.

He nodded. "Tomorrow."

Her eyes sparkled and she nodded too. "Alright then, goodbye, Bucky."

She waved at him and started walking in the opposite direction he was taking. He sort of stood there, watching her walk away from him. The gears in his brain suddenly clicked and he quickly went inside the coffeehouse to pick something off the floor and return outside. Eva hadn't turned the corner yet and Bucky found himself running to her without realizing it. Within feet of her, he called out.

"Eva!" She turned around, brows raised. He slowed down to a jog and then to a complete stop. Buck held out the bag of bread to her. "You forgot this."

Her face lit up and took the bag. "Oh! Thank you, Bucky."

He had a ghost of a smile on his face. He turned on his heel and was about to say goodbye when Eva spoke up.

"Bucky?"

He turned around. "Yes?"

"We should hang out again."

Bucky's stomach felt like it was going to crawl out onto the street and for some reason, he was fine with that.

"Alright."

Eva gave him one last smile before saying goodbye again. Bucky walked down the street and back to the base, all the while thinking of what Eva had said. He felt weird, like the feeling was interfering with his usual behavior. It was strange that she would want to 'hang out' with him, of all people. With one look, anyone could tell he was a complete disaster. But not her, not Eva. The way she walked and talked with him felt like... like she considered him to be human.

So that was what he was feeling, he realized. He was feeling human. If human felt like throwing up, then sure. It came to him that not once did he speak or feel with any apathy towards Eva. It was a strange feeling but without noticing his body and mind had somehow succumbed to it. Now he really felt like his stomach was going to crawl out onto the street.

He couldn't yet decipher what was going on within his system, but Bucky somehow felt lighter than he'd ever been. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was all because of the girl with the silly glasses. The feeling was foreign and the Winter Soldier part of him felt aggravated, but Bucky was trying to hold onto the feeling before it could slip away, trying understand it. In the mess of his life, this was the only good thing that had come of it. It felt silly, the desperation to hold on to something Bucky could not fully understand yet.

It was like trying to capture smoke with his bare, raw hands.

"Stupid," he scolded himself once he got in the elevator. Bucky's thoughts were all over the place on the way back to the base. "So stupid."

Steve and Natasha weren't in his apartment when he walked in, much to his own relief. He didn't think he could last another second with the fiery redhead in the room. He dropped himself onto the couch with a great sigh. He rested the back of his head against the soft cushioning and clutched his chest, directly over his heart. From time to time, he did that. Just lay his hand over his heart. Sometimes it was to reassure Bucky that he was still alive after all that had happened in the last year, that he wasn't being frozen in time. Or that he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore, just Bucky, and that his heart beat was actually real. It reminded him that he wasn't a machine anymore, wasn't a weapon. But he couldn't say that his heartbeat made him feel human. He couldn't say that he was human in any nature, with the reminder of all he had done, of all the murders. Eva's face flashed across his mind and he panicked when he felt the pace beat quickly beneath his palm. It felt like it was going to jump straight out of his chest. He clenched the spot where his heart was and shut his eyes tightly, feeling like he was going to burst from the pressure surrounding his head and ribs. It hadn't beat this fast since the first night at S.H.I.E.L.D., when he had his first nightmare. But this was a different type of fast-pace heart beat.

If only Bucky knew how or why his heart felt like it was going to rip through his chest.

When his heart beat settled down, Bucky looked over his apartment with tired eyes. He'd be passed out by now, but his cowardice held him back. Even if he did succumb to his exhaustion, he wouldn't feel rested because of the constant restlessness that came with the traumatic memories or nightmares. When his eyes skimmed over everything, he felt like the small confines of his so-called home were much too large for him. It was packed with useless furniture, yes, but Bucky suddenly felt as if he had shrunk down to the size of a mouse. The apartment was a whole new world to him, and everything was suddenly towering over him; it was like it all threatened to collapse and crush him. The apartment seemed so big, yet it was small enough for a single person to live in.

Even if that were true, no one could deny the feeling of loneliness that hung in the air. And that was the burden Bucky was forced to bear every single day. The crushing loneliness.


	4. Just Smile

Steve sighed heavily once he had read over the details for his latest assignment. Agent Hill had asked him to come look over the newer assignments in her office. He buried his face in his hands, gradually running them up and through his cropped hair. It always unnerved him to receive distressing missions, but that was why Steve was counted on to complete the grotesque tasks. And he was always capable of getting it done cleanly, quickly, and efficiently. But then again, the Captain wasn't always able to keep his head on straight when coming face to face with the enemy. He was always briefly reminded of himself as pre-serum Steve, the one that just detested bullies and didn't think that anyone really deserved to die.

That's all they were, just bullies. Bullies with machine guns.

The problem at hand, though, was Hydra. The rumors of a base hidden somewhere in the world was stressful. He couldn't imagine what Bucky must be thinking or feeling. Bucky knew of the few bases that were left, but wasn't aware that there was something bigger, something a whole lot more dangerous at bay. It was at his friend's best interests for Steve to keep it hidden for now. If Bucky were to suddenly snap if the information leaked out to him, then Steve would have to keep the former assassin as far away as possible.

Fury wasn't exactly being that big of a help, either. The man still held a grudge against Bucky for killing- well, trying to kill- him.

"As long as Hydra doesn't find him, then I won't be all that concerned," Fury's words echoed through Steve's head.

"But what happens if they do?" Steve argued. "What if he loses it?"

Fury didn't let any expression faze him. "He's a grown man. He'll know how to deal with them. Our priority is just running them out and getting our hands on any information we've missed."

"He's a mess, Nick," Steve clenched his fists. "He's-"

"Your friend. Yeah, I got that."

The more Steve thought about the conversation and Hydra, the more he realized it was kind of a stupid idea to keep something this important from Bucky. The man had every right to know, especially when Hydra had already taken so much from the brunet.

Steve tucked the file under his arm, the thoughts creating a storm in his head as he left Agent Hill's office.

* * *

Bucky's legs felt like jello when he sat down after getting off the treadmill. Sweat stained his clothes and he ran a hand through his matted, mess of hair. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s gym was a place Bucky visited from time to time (really only three times since he got there) and was the only other place he didn't mind visiting. It was equipped well, with a punching bag, weights, treadmills, the whole deal. A lot of training went on here for the newer agents, but today it was almost empty. Working out was an activity that distracted Bucky from everything, so he could focus on the burn and strain of his muscles. He literally ran forty miles on the treadmill without stopping, physically exerting himself until he almost fell off because of the fatigue. He didn't realize how out of shape he was until his calf muscles began to burn.

At least his combat fighting was still rather exquisite.

He wiped his sweaty brow with a towel and wrapped it around his neck. Flexing his arms, he stood back up and left the gym. He took a quick shower and dressed in his regular civilian clothes. He automatically knew that he was going to the library without a second thought. Bucky made sure to stuff his wallet and keys in his pocket before leaving for the elevator. Just as he tied his hair back, the elevator stopped to open and Steve stepped in.

"Bucky," his friend looked happy to see him. "Glad I caught you. There's something I want to discuss."

When Bucky didn't say anything, he continued. "What do you think of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Bucky arched his brow. "They're… alright, I suppose. Minus the fact that they _held me face down to the floor._"

Steve grimaced. "I'm sorry, I didn't know they were going to do that."

The two of them were silent for a while until the blond spoke up again.

"I want you to start coming with me on missions."

Bucky snapped his neck to look at him. His eyes were the size of disks and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline from surprise.

"You know everything about Hydra, Bucky, and we need you-"

"You're asking the wrong person, Steve."

"We're getting no where here, Buck, we got to hit them while they're at their weakest. I know you want them gone more than anyone else does."

Bucky chewed his lip, looking past Steve's head at the wall. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. The elevator stopped at the main level of entry, and Bucky took a step out. He tilted his head to the side, not quite meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

"... but it's not that he's full of himself, he's just a lost soul. Holden just doesn't know how to deal with all that's hurt him. All the loneliness and façades he puts on is..."

Bucky had never seen Eva's lips move so fast. He almost expected her to pass out from the lack of breathing she was doing. But he was slightly amazed at how much she really liked the _Catcher in the Rye. _

"I can't believe you think that he just likes attention," she scoffed.

"I didn't say that," Bucky simply said. "I just said that he draws too much attention to himself."

She looked like she was going to argue, but rolled her eyes instead.

"Just give me the book so I can put it away," Eva tried to give him her best stern look, but the smile instantly took over.

Bucky watched her stamp the book and put it in the cart. Day by day, he learned a new thing everyday about her. Like when she was focused, her nose would scrunch up in the most peculiar way. Or when no one was looking she'd quote lines from Shakespeare to herself. It was all the things on the surface he'd noticed. But the things Eva kept on the inside were yet to reveal itself.

"Are you going to start that list soon?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Since when did he become so casual?

"You've read every single one?" She raised her eyebrows In surprise.

"Yeah."

"I've got to say, I'm impressed."

"Do I get a reward?"

"If you give me five minutes, I can make one out of paperclips and tape."

Bucky's lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. Eva tucked some hair behind her ear and left the counter, pulling the cart behind her.

"I guess this means I need to make a new list soon." she said, putting books back in their rightful places. "I feel like you're going to go insane without it."

"I wouldn't say I'd lose sanity. Maybe just die from boredom."

Bucky followed close behind, assisting her with the busy work and putting books back on the higher shelves when she couldn't reach.

"You sure you don't want a job here?" Eva asked again. "I think we need someone tall around here."

He shook his head. "I'm sure but thanks."

"Offer is always open."

He rolled his eyes a bit. Steve's voice filled his head again and we wondered what would happen if he had said yes to the missions. Fury probably wouldn't be on board with the idea and just send the assassin to sit on his ass and sharpen pencils. It sent him wracking with shivers, however, when he thought about being on a mission again. If he were in combat or faced Hydra again, he'd probably snap and kill everyone. He'd kill Steve. His eyes flickered down at Eva. She was young, early twenties. And she wanted to be a nurse. She had ambitions, goals, likes and dislikes. If Bucky were to be taken over by the soldier, would he target this woman?

"Bucky?"

He shook the thoughts out of his head. "What?"

"Are you okay? I don't know, you sort of out of it for a bit... were you listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was thinking." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to know if you'd like to go to a book signing with me," she leaned against the cart. "Kelly Keaton is going to be at the Barnes and Nobles this Saturday."

Bucky felt all his organs drop to his feet. Was she asking to hang out with him? It was like when they got coffee a few days ago all over again. He was going to heave into a waste basket beside a bookcase from his built up anxiety. Why he felt like this, he hadn't the slightest clue. _What was going on with him_? He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to stare down at Eva's expectant face. God, why did she look at him like that? Like he was just a normal person? There was a war going on in his head, and all this was was just a simple 'no' or 'yes' question. So then why did he feel like he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders?

And there his mouth went again, opening without him even realizing it.

"Sure."

"Really?"

There was no going back now.

"Yes, I'll go with you."

She flashed him a genuine grin. "Excellent. I'll text you where to meet up."

What the hell was he doing? Was he actually going to go to this… this… whatever she said. Bucky felt like he had just dug his own grave and it just got deeper and deeper with all the self doubt and awkwardness.

"I… don't have a phone."

She turned back to him with a surprised look, and Bucky felt himself shrink down. Not literally, but it felt like it. Of course she'd look at him like that. Who _didn't_ have a phone in this century. Even _Steve_ had a phone, despite the fact it was one of those prepaid flip ones instead of the fancy smartphones that Natasha had.

"You're the first adult I know to _not_ own a cellular device," she started to laugh quietly. "I'll write it down for you, instead."

He felt like he couldn't stop nodding; his head was going to fall off soon.

"Th… thanks."

"I'm just so excited," she gushed, her entire face lighting up at the thought. "I'm a _huge_ fan of Kelly Keaton. God, to meet her would be amazing. And she's one of the newer authors, and usually I'm not particularly impressed with the newer authors that have books published because their writing and plots and characters are just so predictable, you know? But not her, oh no. Her style is just fantastic and _A Beautiful Evil_ had just the right amount of everything I could like in a book. I mean the romance, the greek mythology, a heroine with a mysterious past who just so happens to be amazing with a gun… it's incredible and I'm just so envious of the main character because I'd love that kind of life, except, well, minus the constant attempts of getting killed by an evil greek goddess but that's...oh."

Eva stopped short, looking up at Bucky with an apologetic expression. He just stared at her with slight awe. She _really_ liked this book.

"Sorry," she pushed the short strands of hair away from her face. "I tend to get carried away."

"It's fine," Bucky gave her a reassuring smile. "Besides, it's nice to hear you talk about something you like."

A blush crept her cheeks and she twisted the pieces of hair by her forehead, avoiding his gaze. Bucky was hit with what he had just said, and wondered if that was the wrong or right thing to say. He could feel the nauseating embarrassment and questioned if he had sounded creepy. God, it probably was creepy of him.

"Just remind me when I need to breathe," she shot him a smirk.

* * *

Later in the evening, Bucky went to Steve's apartment. He'd only been there twice; once when he shot Nick Fury and the other when Steve brought him over to clean up and give him new clothes. Sharon Carter had moved out a long time ago and lived in a different apartment building when she joined the CIA. Sam and Natasha were there, too, unfortunately; it was frustrating to be in the same room as Natasha for all known reasons, and the fact that Bucky had destroyed Sam's car and wings made him feel like a deer in the headlights.

Every now and then Steve wanted to do a little get together at his place, and now that Bucky was allowed to leave the base, Steve invited him over with no time to waste. They all sat around the small kitchen table eating takeout and making light conversation. Bucky, of course, sat silent and ate quietly. At least the positive thing that came out of this was that he's not all that tense like he usually was. He was getting comfortable to this, to being around people. Even though every person in the room was someone he had tried to kill.

But all of that was just history now.

However, the three friends could tell that the air around the assassin was thick and unusual. The way he ate-well, picked at, really- his food and the constant staring off into space raised suspicion. Bucky's face was vacant of any expression; even his regular scowl was replaced with something unknown and alien to the three. Steve was courteous enough not to pry, Sam kept his distance and was more interested in his pan noodles, but nothing could've been said the same for Natasha, who chewed on her chopstick with irritation as she stared holes into Bucky's side.

The woman set her box of rice down roughly onto the table, a grumpy sigh being exhaled out her mouth.

"You're hiding something," she said to Bucky, and Steve and Sam turned to stare at them in the midst of their conversation.

Bucky looked at her with the mother of all emptiest expressions. He looked like a statue. An irritated, cranky, exhausted statue.

"Do you take joy in annoying me, Romanov?" Bucky stared her down in such a way that it literally made the other two men uneasy. Natasha was simply unfazed.

"Come on, Barnes," she tried to use her sweetest voice. "You know you can never keep anything from me. And I know everything."

"I thought you said 'you only act like you know everything'?" Steve quoted her from a long a time.

She threw a dirty, wadded napkin at the blond. Sam muttered into his noodles, talking to himself about how all he wanted was a nice evening. Bucky chewed on his lip and scowled before turning back to Natasha.

"If I tell you, will you drop it and never speak of this again?"

"Promise." She crossed her heart.

Bucky took an intake of air before letting it out, shutting his eyes for a moment and then looking up a minute later.

"She wants me to go to a book signing with her," he muttered into his box of lo mein.

When he said it out loud, it made it all the more real. Like it wasn't a figment of his imagination and that someone actually considered him. Someone actually wanted a person like Bucky around to do something. It made Bucky's insides twist and turn with his constant anxiety and he set the box down to clench his fists in his lap.

"Wait… _seriously_?" Natasha gave him an incredulous look. "What did you say?"

"Man," Sam gaped with a look of disbelief etched on his face. "You're hooking up already? The girl at the front desk _still _won't go out with me!"

"This is good news," Steve grinned.

"What did you say?" Natasha asked him again, eager to know every detail.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his face with his hands and staying like that. "I said 'yes'."

He ran his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time that day and stared at the wood of the table. His heart was already beating erratically at the thought and the voice at the back of his head was convinced of all of the number of ways it could all go wrong.

"Shouldn't you be stoked?" Sam asked, eyeing him warily. "You look like you're about to die."

"I _am_ about to die," the assassin looked up with a hint of despair in his eyes. "I don't even know why I agreed to it. It… it _just happened_."

"So you agreed to a date without thinking about it?" the woman peered at him.

Bucky looked at her with a frown. "It's not a date."

"Sure sounds like a date. And shouldn't _you_ be the one asking her instead of the other way around?"

"It's not a date! And it's not like that, dammit. We're…"

"You're what? Friends? I've heard that one a thousand times."

"We're…" Bucky his furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. "I don't know what we are. I don't know if she considers me anything close to a friend; we barely even know each other."

"Then get to know her, Buck," Steve said gently. "I think this might actually be good for you, befriending someone who's not, you know, us. Could be healthy."

Bucky stared at the blond, trying to understand what he was saying. He shook his head and pressed the palm of his right hand against his eye.

"Eva would just leave anyway in the end…" he breathed out quietly, but of course they all heard him. It didn't take a genius to understand why he said that. His fears were obvious; he was afraid of the Winter Soldier coming back to control his mind.

"Eva, huh?" Natasha leaned her head against her hand. "Pretty name. When will we meet this Eva?"

That seemed to pull Bucky out of his self loathing and he glared at her. "Never. You'll never meet her."

She held her hands up in surrender. "Jeez, calm down. It's not like I'm going to track her down and question her."

Bucky gave her a look that said, _You better not or else I'll rip your eyes out_.

* * *

Bucky left Steve's an hour or so later, feeling sluggish and he had a migraine. He rested on his bed for a while, lying in the eerie darkness. There was barely any sound except for his breathing and the ticking of the clock. Since that conversation, Bucky felt like total crap and he swore to God that he probably had hundreds of ulcers; even if that were the case, they would've healed in minutes due to the serum coursing through his veins. He wondered if the serum could repair the loose screw he had inside his brain.

It was obvious that the gears turning in his head were thinking of Eva. He had to snort to himself; he felt and even sounded childish. But she was still invading the mess of his head. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself-counting the minutes, staring at his metal hand, summarizing every book in his head- Bucky would just drift back to the girl. And frankly it was slightly alarming and frightening. There was no explanation as to why this was, and it bothered him. He had nothing against her, but of what importance was it that made it so hard for her not to be thought of. There was also the bubble of nervousness attacking his stomach when he remembered about Saturday. He thrashed around on his bed, trying to rid himself of the feeling but to no avail.

A thousand things could go wrong, and it all had to do with possibility of Bucky suddenly losing it to his social anxiety and attacking everyone. He imagined him holding Eva by the throat while she struggled for air, his metal fingers crushing her windpipe. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he wished he could've said no. He could've called it off and everything would be just fine. But Eva looked just so happy. He couldn't rid his mind of her sparkling eyes and happy smile when he said yes. Eva looked like she didn't want to go alone. And Bucky really didn't want to take away all that excitement from her.

Oh, God, when did he become so soft?

Bucky wondered why she asked _him_ though. Of all the people in the world, why did she ask him? Surely she had other friends to ask, people that would share the same enthusiasm she had. Bucky frowned to himself. What if... what if Eva didn't have anyone to ask? What if she didn't have any friends? She must've been lonely enough to resort to him. Bucky's stomach lurched with worry.

Worry. He had only experienced this feeling once when he had went to the Smithsonian for the first time he had gazed at his past self. But this feeling of worry didn't settle with him and he twisted uncomfortably on his bed.

Was he actually worried about Eva? About her being lonely? Bucky was used to loneliness, so it was nothing new to him; but the thought of Eva being lonely was unsettling.

If only Bucky had all the answers in the world as to what was going on with him.

He dragged a hand down his face and breathed out a long sigh. He turned his head to look at clock and read that it was well past two in the morning. He tried to focus on all of the sounds, like the creaking of the pipes or the drip of water from the faucet. It didn't stray his thoughts from the girl.

Bucky did come to a conclusion eventually: he should ask his physician if he was mentally insane.


	5. For the Good Ol' Cap

**Hey, guys! So I just wanted to thank ALL OF YOU for your love and support and kind words. Writing this has been so much fun, and I just have a thousand ideas flooding through my head for the future chapters, and I'm trying to plan each chapter ahead so I can get the kinks for Bucky's character development and such. And I am so _impressed_ with the views! Over 2000?! AMAZING. What really intrigues me is the fact that you guys are literally all over the fucking world. There are some people from fucking Greece and China and Brazil reading and that made me so happy. You guys ROCK. It's such a diverse reading group and I LOVE IT.**

**But I just wanted to thank the people that reviewed because you guys just inspire me to write and I'm so sorry if I haven't replied to some of your comments, I've just been so busy ever since school started. Which reminds me: because school has started, updating will be happening every 1.5 to 2 weeks (guesstimate) Being an AP/honor roll student is NOT fun, but I will try my best to make you guys happy.**

* * *

Bucky hadn't visited the library since that Monday. Ever since that heart attack of a conversation with Eva, his stomach was doing backflips. And not the good kind of backflips. So he kept to himself in his apartment, returning to his habits of lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Another occupation he took up was looking at the address and time Eva had written down a piece of paper. He didn't know why he kept looking at it, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the messy scribbles. It was already worn from how much he kept holding it.

For some reason, Bucky felt nervous. Every time he looked at the paper or thought about the goddamn book signing, he felt like his heart was in his throat and that his insides were twisting in some insane way. He didn't dare ask his physician about it the day before when he had his check-up. He came close to asking, though, formulating the question in his head before having an internal freak-out and just shutting up and sitting quietly.

Bucky Barnes was a mess and he didn't have the slightest idea in the world why.

He thought an hour in the gym would clear his head, that maybe he could focus on the strain in his legs and upper body. He nearly ran a hole through the treadmill and already broke four punching bags, sand spilling as the lay on the floor as victims of Bucky's aggravation. If he had a dollar for every time he felt anxious and frustrated, Bucky would've been richer than Tony Stark by now. It didn't help when literally _everything_ reminded him of the girl. Honestly, though, what was so goddamn special about her? If anything, she was just another boring, regular citizen in a boring, regular society doing boring, regular things.

But that was how big of a liar he was, because Eva stood out to Bucky like a red crayon in a box full of gray crayons. Even all the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were gray compared to her. On a normal day, the agents would be completely wary of him but he'd get a flood of unnecessary smiles from the short-haired girl. God, why was she _always_ smiling? What was there even to smile about? And more importantly, why in the hell wasn't she intimidated? He literally radiated death and self-loathing from a mile away and that would make anyone run with their tails tucked between their legs. Bucky would might as well tattoo "Dangerous" on his forehead, and Eva would still argue with him over Holden Caulfield.

The girl had a special kind of weird that Bucky didn't understand. And he knew weird; he was friends with _Steve_ for God's sake. And Natasha was whole different species of weird that Bucky didn't dare venture his thoughts into.

Bucky rubbed a towel over his sweaty face and neck, then unwrapped his hands. His knuckles on his flesh hand burned a furious pink and the knuckles on the metal one were left full of scuff marks. Those weren't from the punching bag, but from the helicarrier incident. The soldier grimaced, thinking of Steve's bruised and swollen face staring up at him. He'd try to make it up to the blond, maybe buy him a picture frame or something tacky that normal people would do. That is if normal people bought something for someone they tried to kill.

He managed to run a few more miles on the treadmill before leaving the gym. He passed Agent Barton in the hall and both men nodded to each other and went on their way. Bucky actually didn't mind the skilled marksman. He got along with the agent, and they sometimes exchanged a few words about weaponry and such things. He wasn't on first name basis with him like everyone else and just called him Barton, and the agent called him Barnes, which Bucky appreciated. The only person Bucky would call someone by first name is and always would be Steve… and Eva.

So much for the distractions.

Bucky had a quick shower and dressed in dark jeans and a sweater. A hint of a smirk played on his lips when he looked at his very small wardrobe; he remembered when Steve came by a day after he settled into his tiny apartment with a few bags of brand new clothes. And God, they looked expensive and for some reason, Steve thought it was necessary to purchase very dark colors. Bucky knew that he radiated darkness, but it wasn't exactly written in any document that he should _only _wear dark clothes. He wasn't going to tell Steve that, though. But one had to admit, dark clothes made Bucky look even more intimidating. If he got a haircut and shaved every so often, he probably wouldn't look so damn frightening. Bucky wasn't ready for a haircut though; he didn't trust anyone to hold scissors by his face, and he had already fallen victim to laziness when it came to shaving.

He looked through the records that were stacked neatly on a shelf, some of the names looking familiar and others not before pulling out a Brian Crain record. He set it the needle on it and let the piano music fill the empty silence of the apartment. Before he could even settle down on the couch, the was a knock on the door and Bucky audibly groaned. His hand was hovering over the doorknob right when it was pushed open, hitting Bucky in the face and he growled in irritation. The Winter Soldier had a high pain tolerance, but it was annoying to get hit in the nose. Steve peered around the door and was in the middle of frowning and grinning.

"Oh, sorry, Buck," he quickly apologized as he shut the door.

_Sorry, my ass_, Bucky thought as he rubbed his nose.

"What do you want, Steve?" He tried not to sound so harsh or unwelcoming, but Bucky just really wanted to be alone.

Leave it to Steve for his overly big heart wanting to make sure that every person was happy and he was almost always offering some sort of company. It was hard for Bucky to realize that this was the man who would hate to hurt a fly yet managed to take down the Red Skull _and_ reveal Hydra to the world _and_ fight aliens. Steve Rogers, defender of the world and human-sized teddy bear. And what did Bucky do? He fell off a godforsaken train _and _lost his arm _and_ was brainwashed to kill people.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," the blond said. So much for wanting to pay Steve back. "There's a new italian restaurant."

"I'll pass."

"Not taking no for an answer," Steve crossed his arms with a determined look on his face.

"Steve-"

"Let's go!" The blond tugged on Bucky's arm and the brunet tried very hard to pull away from his strong grip. The two may be equal in strength, but when Steve got a hold of Bucky's arm to drag him somewhere, there was no escaping.

"At least let me put my goddamn shoes on!" He protested, pointing to his bare feet.

It seemed that Bucky's idea of having a quiet day came abruptly to an end.

* * *

When the weather changed from hot and welcoming to cold and bitter, it was usually around that time when Steve would put his motorcycle in storage and bring out his SUV. The two sat in the car, old timey jazz playing quietly in the background. Bucky rested his head against his hand and looked out the window, watching the stores and people pass by quickly. He had his legs crossed and leaned in the seat without his seatbelt on, much to Steve's dislike. No matter how much Steve pestered him about how it was the law and it was for his own general safety, Bucky couldn't give a damn and in his own little way protesting, he refused to wear it. Even if the car did crash, he wouldn't get seriously injured or even a scratch.

Bucky flickered his eyes to the side, stealing a glance at Steve whose eyes were fixated on the road. He wondered how the blond could be so calm all the time. Even Steve had his share of hardships, although they weren't as traumatic as Bucky's, but the assassin always wondered how the captain could be so optimistic. Despite the fact that Bucky was a pessimist, he was also a realist. He looked at everything statistically; he knew that he was fifty shades of fucked up and that he had as good of a chance of reverting back to James Barnes as much as a humans setting foot on Pluto. It was something Bucky had yet to ask Steve, how he could just continue living onto the next day without having a meltdown.

After another few minutes of driving, Steve parallel parked the car beside the small restaurant. Bucky shrugged his jacket closer to him and stuffed his hands between his underarms. The smell of oregano and pasta sauce hit Bucky's nostrils like bomb and he felt a wave of foreign nostalgia he had yet to decipher when the two men went inside. There were a few families and some couples as well as others on their lunch breaks scattered around the tables. He swallowed thickly; it was to look at families. For some unknown reason, he always felt some sort of discomfort around them. Steve sat himself and Bucky down around the farthest corner; he mostly picked that particular spot for Bucky's sake, knowing that the man was a ticking time bomb of anxiety and nerves and made sure they had views of all the exits.

Bucky sat there, hand in his palm and stared out the window. The clouds were clustered in the south, but he knew that it would bring a shower of cold rain later. The two super soldiers sat there in silence which was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was just silence to Bucky, that's all it was. Steve flipped through the laminated menu while the brunet left his untouched. Steve ended up ordering for Bucky, too, since the soldier ate pretty much ate anything anyway. Steve watched his friend who, despite the blank expression, had millions of thoughts swimming in the blue-green of his eyes. It was painstakingly obvious what Bucky was thinking about and Steve didn't blame the guy. It was actually rather amusing to see Bucky, a guy who hardly showed any sort of emotion except annoyance and anger, have a mixture of worry, confusion, terror, and curiosity. Steve laughed inwardly; he wondered what Bucky was like around that girl, if he reverted back to Sergeant James Barnes or was monotone Bucky.

"You're avoiding her," Steve said after a while. Bucky flicked his eyes towards the blond and went back to looking out the window. "It's kind of funny."

Without looking at him, Bucky said with obvious sarcasm in his voice, "Ah, yes, Steve, laugh at my troubles."

The blond snorted. "Why is that? I thought you like her."

"I… I wouldn't _say_ that I like her."

"I thought you do."

"I suppose I'm fond of her. We're… acquaintances."

"Okay, why are you avoiding your _acquaintance_?"

Bucky breathed out a long sigh, blinking his hair out of his eyes.

"I don't know." And he was being honest. Bucky really didn't know the exact reason why he hadn't gone to see Eva.

"Well, you're going to have to see her tomorrow…"

Bucky flinched, an action Steve rarely saw, and fully faced him with an incredulous look on his face. "To...tomorrow's _Saturday_?"

Steve cocked an eyebrow before nodding slowly.

"Oh, fuck…" Bucky dragged his hands down his face in and slumped back in defeat. He hadn't realized that the signing was _tomorrow_. He was so busy trying to distance himself and calm his nerves that he hadn't noticed that Saturday was quickly approaching.

The waitress placed their food, lasagna for Steve and chicken parmesan for Bucky, in front of them. Steve attacked his lunch while Bucky picked at his chicken with a frown on his face. All of he could think about was Eva and that stupid grin on her face and her goddamn happiness and Bucky wasn't sure what to do. He had been alone with her before at the library and at the coffeehouse a week or so ago, but to be alone with her… in public… with _several_ people that were most likely going to crowd around at the book signing. It was unnerving and Bucky pushed his meal away from a wave of nausea.

Steve sighed and pushed a glass of water towards his paling friend. "Calm down, Buck. You don't need to worry."

"I'm _not_ worried," Bucky muttered, more to himself rather than Steve. No, of course he wouldn't be worried. He wasn't a wuss… or was he?

Steve pushed the glass of water even more towards Bucky, a silent plea to calm his nerves down and just relax.

"Just think about how much fun you'll have." Bucky gave him a look that said, _When have I ever been capable of fun_? "At least do it for her. At least _smile_. She's obviously going to enjoy her time with you."

"And if I ruin it?"

"Stop being pessimistic," Steve waved his fork at him. "It's not healthy. You hanging out with this Eva girl, that is healthy. It's progress, Buck."

Bucky snorted to himself. "Progress? She's someone who just works at the library."

"_Just_ someone?"

"Yes."

"Bucky," Steve said in a serious note. "Would you really, and I'm being serious and I want you to think about this, would you _really_ leave the confines of your apartment in your reclusive state and go out in the clutches of society all because she's just another face?"

Bucky furrowed his brow. What the hell does that even mean? He looked down at the table, taking in every detail of the wood, every scratch, every chip, every line. God… he would punch Steve if they weren't in a public place.

He ran his flesh hand through his hair and exhaled a breath. "I guess she… she isn't just someone."

Steve chewed in thought and swallowed before speaking again. "I think she could help you remember things."

"Steve-"

"Really, Bucky, she might influence you in a good way."

"How? Is she going to wave her magic wand at me? She's not going to hocus-pocus me into suddenly getting my memories."

"I just mean that she can bring out the best of you; you were quite a spontaneous guy back in the day, and ladies brought that side of you-"

"Eva's not going to bring out _any_ side of me."

"-but maybe over time… you can go back to the way you were."

Bucky narrowed his eyes into slits. "I can't go back to the way I was, Steve, it doesn't work like that."

"Buc-"

"No, Steve," Bucky snapped. "If you think that Eva can magically bring out the brighter side of me, then you need to rethink whatever little fantasy that's going on in your head. I'm not James Barnes anymore, I'm the damn Winter Soldier. I can't just go back to being whatever you remembered me as. You need to accept me as… whatever the hell I am."

Bucky had both his hands clenched in his lap and he couldn't meet Steve's eyes. It was rather hypocritical of him to say that, because he still wasn't able to accept himself. He had a hint of regret about saying all those things to Steve that way.

"Sorry."

"No, Buck, you're right," the blond interjected. "I just need to accept you as you are. I know that having you go back to the same old person is sort of a lost cause, but as long as you're alive and in front me, then I couldn't have it any other way."

When they paid the bill- Steve paid, Bucky didn't even have enough time to grab his wallet- the two super soldiers left the car in front of the restaurant and took a stroll around D.C. as the afternoon sun moved across the sky. The walk was quiet, and they turned to where Steve usually took his morning runs around the National Monument and Lincoln Memorial. A couple groups of tourists walked around, clad in matching neon sweaters and flashing cameras. Bucky didn't really see what was so special about these tourist hotspots.

It really wasn't such a bad place to have run though.

Near the monument was the Potomac, where the Triskelion once stood high and proud cleared of its ruins. All that was left of it was some rods sticking up out of the ground and a fence surrounding it. The city had plans to build another skyscraper, maybe an office building, but that still an idea on the perch. Bucky looked up at the sky, almost half expecting the building to rise up from the ground and stand gleaming in the sun as it had in the past. Every time he blinked, he could see flashes of the helicarriers in the air, their gargantuan guns trained on the millions of people from the sky. He could hear, see, and almost smell the smoky from the explosions of metal and glass, and the rusty, metallic taste of blood on his lips as he remembered the moment Steve fell through the floor. He shuddered and looked back down at the concrete sidewalk as the two men walked on.

Bucky would gladly trade those memories for an empty mind. The mere thought of how Hydra nearly succeeded with eradicating the few million off the face of the earth made Bucky sick. He stopped short, leaning against a tree and heavily breathing, covering his mouth with his hand and he could feel the chicken make its way up as his throat, the memories flashing through his head of blood and exploding metal. Of Steve. Of Fury. Of Natasha and Sam. Of Alexander Pierce's cold, blue eyes. He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves and come down from the miniature panic attack. He felt a hand, Steve's hand, rest on his shoulder and he asked Bucky if he was alright.

"I'm fine," Bucky said, trying very hard not to let his voice crack.

Steve shot his friend a worried glance and they turned continued on with their walk. They walked up and down the strip by the monument and headed back in the direction of the car. Bucky relaxed after a few minutes, stomach settling down even though he could taste a bit of vomit at the back of his mouth. He tried to swallow a few times and wished he had a bottle of water with him.

"So what exactly are you two going to talk about?" Steve's voice sliced through the thick silence like a knife.

Bucky flashed him a pointed look before shrugging his shoulders. "Books."

Steve cocked his brow. "Is that all you two talk about? At least make an effort to talk about other things."

Bucky wanted to tell him that they _had_ talked about others things, but he wasn't going to. Steve didn't need to know about him getting coffee with Eva, otherwise the blond wouldn't shut up.

"Why don't you take her somewhere afterwards?" Steve suggested.

"Like where? This isn't exactly an exciting city."

"Helicarriers blew up. Captain America is seen running in the morning. If that doesn't seem exciting, then you're on the wrong planet."

Bucky rolled his eyes, blowing stray pieces of hair out of his face. "Har, har. She'd decline anyway. She might want to go home later."

"What would you do if she asked you over?"

Bucky physically tensed. He hadn't thought of that. "I don't know…"

"You _better_ say yes." Steve had this look on his face that made Bucky want to trip him. "She clearly wants to be your friend."

Bucky scrunched his face up. The girl must be crazy, he mused, if she wanted to be his friend. The other agents would literally run for the hills than actually befriend the stone-faced brunet. But the thought did make his stomach flutter uncertainly. Friends… with Eva. Wait till his therapist heard about this… that is if he actually worked up the courage to talk about Eva and his trips to the public library. Like hell he would.

"Oh, stop being so apathetic. I know you want to be her friend; _you_ just don't know it yourself."

"And _you_ have no idea what you're talking about."

Steve stopped short and stood in front him. He was barely taller than Bucky, and the Winter Soldier couldn't imagine Steve being any shorter than that; it almost seemed impossible when he had to look up a fraction of a centimeter at him.

"What kind of a gentleman would just stand there quietly while on a date with a nice dame?"

"Goddammit, it's not a date! Don't let Natasha fill your head with that crap!"

"Doesn't give you an excuse to be a robot. Make sure she's having fun, she's looking forward to this. She's looking forward to seeing you."

Bucky groaned to himself. The stupid bastard wasn't going to let this go.

"Pretend I'm Eva and that you have to have a conversation with me."

"No."

"Hello, Bucky," Steve's voice squeaked in the most hideous, feminine tone he could manage.

"Oh, Christ…"

"How was your day?"

"Steve, don't embarrass me."

"I just can't wait to go the book signing!"

"_Steve-_"

"Aren't you excited?"

"People are staring."

"We're going to have such a wonderful ti-"

"_Goddammit, Steve_!"

"You have the loveliest eyes!"

"STEVE, STOP."

Steve couldn't help but pull his lips into a toothy grin while Bucky stood there with an annoyed expression etched on his face.

"You're so weird," he grumbled as they walked back to the car.

On the way back to the base, Steve stopped by a grocery to buy himself a few things and left Bucky in the car, feet resting against the dash (something Steve always despised) and leaned his head against the cold glass window. He was going over what Steve had said in his mind, and although he didn't like admitting it, Steve did have a point. Eva sure did look excited and this must be important to her. He'd never even seen anyone look so happy. It almost terrifying to see how bright Eva's eyes had looked. God, he swore her pupils fucking dilated right when he said yes. He almost felt himself get scared at the thought of her shattering like a mirror he stood her up.

Steve drove Bucky back to the base after he returned and pulled up next to a building that looked very much like an office space. Bucky bid him goodbye and watched the man drive away and take a left at the stoplight. He turned on his heel and went inside, running a hand through the tangles in his hair. It felt a bit odd to him every time he returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, whenever he passed the security guard-who was actually an agent- and walked to the the very back of the building. Bucky did think that it was a bit clever to disguise S.H.I.E.L.D. this way, he thought as he took the elevator down beneath the building. It wouldn't last long, though. The government was still on the look out for any suspicion that Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed.

The elevator came to a stop and he got off and went inside his apartment, shutting the door and leaning against it. He sighed to himself, closing his eyes, and could feel his muscles begin to feel a bit sore from exerting himself too much earlier in the morning. Bucky showered again, feeling as if he had a non-existent layer of dirt on him. He washed the water run down the metal of his wrist. He ran his flesh finger along the structure, the bend. It was strange to feel the sensation of skin through the metal. That was something that never failed to fascinate Bucky, the fact that something as horrible as Hydra finding a way for him to feel sensations just like his other arm. Though it wasn't exactly the same, he could feel every texture or temperature. A thought flashed through his mind, of what it would feel like to run his metal fingers through Eva's short hair, and he immediately scowled and shook his head, shutting off the stream of water.

He dressed in a pair of sweats and turned the record player back on. He laid on the couch and listened to the rhythmic notes of the piano playing, resting his folded hands on his stomach. His damp hair pooled under his head and made the spot on the couch wet, but he paid no mind to it. Soon enough, he could feel his eyes droop shut, and he awaited for the night full of restless, terrifying dreams to come.


	6. Not a Date

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the comments and follows! You're all so brilliant, and I'M SO SORRY FOR UPDATING SO LATE! I Love you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

Bucky was a little nervous.

Actually, that was an understatement. He was _incredibly_ nervous. His flesh hand was sweaty, he was twitching, and he couldn't stop running his hands through his hair until it just became a tangled mess of dark hair. He hadn't slept through the night very well, his nightly horrors picking apart his mind, and had kept his eyes open since three in the morning. It was almost near noon and he felt strangely awake for having an hour minimum of sleep. Looking at his reflection in the mirror made him cringe. He looked horrible; sunken eyes, dark rings, ashy complexion, matted hair. Bucky would've passed for a corpse.

He made a fresh pot of tea on the stove to occupy himself and poured himself a mug. However, he immediately spit back the sip in his mug, his face screwing up in disgust. Oh, right. Bucky _hated_ tea. He was more of a coffee person. The pot was emptied into the drain and he just left it in the basin, rummaging through the cupboards for at least some sort of coffee-related drink. The only thing he actually had was a few packets of instant coffee he'd swiped from the cafeteria on the second level. He made himself a mug of that and relished in the caffeine flowing through his veins. It made Bucky relax.

But only for that short moment.

He made a habit out of his anxiety and extreme stress levels by walking about his apartment, fixing and cleaning things that weren't in any need of that. The super-soldier was practically going insane. Bucky literally tugged at the dark strands of his hair to give him something, _anything_, to focus his attention on.

Bucky stopped in mid stride of the living room, which was nearly in the process of getting worn through his pacing, and groaned in his hands.

"What the _hell_?" He scolded himself.

What on God's green earth was he even worrying about? Today was literally nothing to all the days of assassinating and doing Hydra's dirty work; he barely even hesitated with orders. So then why was Bucky hesitating at every moment when Eva's face popped into his head? He took a few deep breaths, trying to at least lower his blood pressure to some extent, gripping his chest. The pain in his left shoulder starting to make itself apparent. It was something that came as a nuisance to Bucky, that his left shoulder would start to hurt when he was stressed. He sat down, rolling his shoulder and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling with the feeling of uncertainty rolling in his gut. Eva. God, he had a date with Eva.

He shook his head furiously to himself, almost as if there was someone there he was trying to deny it to. Except he was by himself and there was the stupid little voice pestering at the back of his head. This was in no way a date. _Not at all_. This was a… friendly get together. It would not have been a date anyway, because _she_ had asked _him_. It would've been a date if Bucky had asked her himself. And he knew that he lacked the balls to actually _do it_.

Well, no. He had the balls to do so. At least he thought so. But he convinced himself that this was two friends hanging out together… alone… just a dame and a guy. _Not. A. Date._

Right? Right.

If Natasha was here in the same room, she would've been going on and on, pushing at Bucky's buttons about this whole ordeal. He tried to block out the sound of her annoying, taunting laugh. God, he suddenly wanted to punch something.

He flopped his head back to rest on the back of the couch, shutting his eyes and brushing the long hairs away from his face, running a hand down his face. It would be a good idea to shave, he realized, but in no way did he make an effort to leave his spot. The laziness was taking over his body and the feeble efforts in the gym weren't cutting it. He needed steroids or something to get him pumped. He looked down at his arms and legs in the shorts and t-shirt he wore; he poked a finger at his muscles. Bucky was still rather toned and didn't really gain any weight, but he did feel a little bit soft at his right bicep and calf muscles. If he kept this behavior up, eventually he'd become a living blob of skin and a metal arm.

The front door opened, shaking Bucky from his cloud of inner darkness, and Steve let himself in. He held an Apple bag in one hand and the other held a Five Guys paper bag; the smell of french fries hit Bucky like a punch to the face. A good kind of punch to the face.

"What's… Five Guys?" Bucky asked the blonde, taking the bag from his hands. "Sounds like an orgy."

Steve would've taken a hello instead, but settled for the remark. "Not an orgy. It's a burger joint. Pretty good if you ask me. Got you some burgers and fries."

The brunet grunted, pulling a burger from the bag and unwrapping it. He took a bite and swallowed without thoroughly chewing, making Steve frown. He was nearly done with his burger before he took notice of the other bag again and nodded to it, asking Steve what it was.

"This," the blond set the bag down on the table in front of Bucky. "Is also for you."

Bucky gave him a suspicious look before wiping his hands on his shorts and pulling out a white box.

"A phone?" Bucky gave him a questioned look. "Steve…"

"You need it," Steve said. "This is the twenty-first century, Buck."

"How much did this cost you?"

"Not much."

"Steve-"

"Shut up and try it out."

The brunet sighed, taking out the device and holding it in his hand. It was a sleek, black IPhone, and Bucky had to admit that it was kind of nice. But God, did it look expensive. He wasn't good at understanding how the American economy or goods and services worked, but Bucky knew when someone had to scrunch up and save for something as useless, yet expensive like this. Steve was just too selfless for his own good. Bucky would most likely sell Captain America for a grape if it came down to it.

Or maybe that was the Winter Soldier talking.

But he held the phone in his hand and, with a defeated sigh, thanked Steve. Bucky finished the sandwich before wiping his hands on his shirt to turn on the phone. It glowed with life and the Apple logo greeted him. He chewed on his lip and furrowed his brow as his finger ghosted over the screen, trying to figure out the little device. He knew how to use a machine gun, he knew how to hack into a computer, he knew how which parts of the spine to throw a kick or punch to paralyze a man. However, Bucky had little knowledge on how to use an IPhone. Steve noticed and had to a bite back a smile as he watched the man wear an expression of confusion and slight annoyance.

"Here," Steve finally stepped over to take the phone. "I'll set it up for you. Just go do whatever you need to do."

Bucky rolled his eyes out of habit, and left the blond to it. He darted his eyes to the clock and his breath caught short when he realized that there was about forty-five minutes till he had to meet up with Eva. How could the time go by so quickly? More importantly he'd have to speed walk the hell over there, but then again he wasn't quite sure _where_ exactly the location was.

"Steve-"

"I'll give you a ride," Steve said without looking up from the phone. His tone had a hint of finality to it.

Bucky blew the air out from his cheeks, turning to go to his room and muttering about how that wasn't even what even what he was going to ask. He hopped into the shower, not caring how the water was steaming and scorching his skin, and scrubbed himself roughly till he was pink. He wore a frown the whole time, rinsing himself and brushing his teeth as he focused on the drops of hot water pelted him like an angry hurricane. Once he dried himself off, Bucky looked in the mirror, eyeing the beard before shaking his head and hurrying off to his drawers. He'd shave another time.

Without really looking through his collection of clothes, he threw on a grey knitted sweater and dark jeans; he decided it best to throw his hooded sweatshirt over him. When he started to pull his socks over his feet, he froze, rat tails of still wet hair dangling over his eyes. This was actually happening, Bucky realized. It startled him, but he didn't know why this startled him. His emotions were all over, and he kept trying to breathe and tell himself that this was normal. Going to see friends-rather an acquaintance-was normal. Eva was normal. He was normal.

"No, you're not," Bucky muttered to himself, pulling on his sock. "No where near normal."

He couldn't fool himself; Bucky knew that whatever this was, this wasn't normal.

* * *

Bucky began to wish that he had shaved. God, he should've shaved. He kept running his flesh hand over the prickly hairs along his cheeks and lower jaw. It was too late now, he realized, as he sat in the passenger seat of Steve's car. He pulled the hood of his sweater over his head to conceal the five o'clock shadow and buried his head into his arms and his neck wasn't even existent with the thick scarf wrapped around, feet up on the dash. Whenever Steve looked over at him, he thought of a teenage boy going through a rebellious stage. It was a bit amusing.

The clouds were scattered today, but the weather still had a bitter bite to it. The leaves that were still left on the trees were barely hanging on, blowing precariously in the wind. Autumn was a season that Bucky seemed to take to rather than the other seasons. People seemed to become obnoxious during the warmth of Spring, Summer was scorchingly brutal, and Winter… he didn't like to see the snow because every time he blinked, he'd see himself falling.

Autumn was nice, he thought as his eyes glazed over the stores and stoplights.

Bucky kept flashing his eyes to the phone in his hand, pressing the home button every now and then to check the time. Steve had given him a brief talk about how to use it to make calls and how to text; the blond took the privilege to add his, Natasha's and Sam's phone numbers into the contacts list. But they both knew that Bucky wouldn't call anyone; sooner or later the phone would collect dust. Steve, however, had hope that even if the Winter Soldier wouldn't call him, he'd at least use it for the one special person that he darest not admit anything about.

Steve soon broke the silence. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Bucky flashed him a look that showed no interest and went back to gazing out at the world that sped by.

"So Kate… I mean, _Sharon_, you know Agent Thirteen, right? Well, she moved out from the apartment across from mine a while ago." Steve looked over to Bucky who made no sign of acknowledgement.

"Well, it's up for rent," Steve stole a glance at Bucky again. Still nothing. "I want you to move in across from me."

This made Bucky snap his head over to him, brows furrowed and a million things to say brewing in his head, but not exactly sure what to say.

"What?" Was the only word the thing that escaped his mouth. The single phrase spoke for itself. What was Steve thinking? What would make Bucky even _want_ to move there? _What if Hydra found him and beat the living shit out of Steve?_

He internally snorted to himself. Steve would probably beat the living shit out of Hydra. Their agents didn't stand a chance against Mr. Tall-Muscular-and-Blond.

"I feel like you'd be a lot happier there," Steve began to explain. "No offense, but you're becoming a hermit and the fact that you live underground is a little creepy."

"Not my fault S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to dig a hole into the earth," Bucky muttered into his palm.

Steve ignored the comment and continued. "You've been given this freedom by Fury, and you might as well use it. There's no point in hiding forever-"

"I'm not hiding."

"-and plus," Steve looked at Bucky with a smirk. "It might give you a chance to see Eva more often."

Bucky shot him a glare. "Wipe that damn smirk off your face."

Steve chuckled and steered the car right, approaching the Barnes and Noble. Bucky's stomach suddenly flipped over in nervousness and he clenched his jaw. The car parked against the curb and Bucky opened the door. He shoved the phone into his pocket and just as he was about to slam the door shut, Steve spoke up.

"So?"

The brunet arched his brow. "So what?"

"So will you move in?" Steve had this gleam of hope and plea in his eyes.

Bucky chewed on his lip and sighed. "I'll think about it."

That was enough for Steve and he smiled. "Alright. I'll see you later, call if you want me to pick you up."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Have fun." Steve winked and drove off when Bucky shut the door.

One of these days, Bucky was going to throw him into a wall. He pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and shoved his hands into his pockets. The smell of the cold air was breathed into him, and he exhaled, watching the condensation of his breath flow into the atmosphere. He could feel himself sweat beneath the layers of his clothes and he wasn't sure if it was because he was nervous or it was just the clothes themselves. He moved to stand under the green awning of the bookstore, gazing up at the building. Bucky had never been in this part of downtown D.C. before; the Barnes and Noble stood tall and proud. Above the store were stories that probably were offices. People passed by but paid him no attention which was a relief. On this Saturday, there was quite a crowd walking to and fro, with friends or family, or by themselves. He groaned at the thought of how he'd probably need to call Steve for a ride. The location was far from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base. Or maybe Eva would give him a ride. A shiver went down his spine at the thought and he couldn't imagine himself being in alone a car with her.

It was a stupid fear, though, because he'd been alone with her several times. But what made Bucky anxious was the fact that he'd be in her space, _her_ car. He suddenly began to wonder what kind of car she drove. It would probably be one of those electric cars that everyone talked about, how it saved the Earth from pollution and what not. In his opinion, electric cars contradicted what they were made to do, mostly because the electricity used to charge them came from coal power plants.

As his mind rambled on and on, a voice made his way to his ears through the crowd. Bucky looked up and his he felt his heart rate start to accelerate when he saw Eva walk over. He begged his stupid heart to calm down and inhaled a long breath to calm himself down. The way he was reacting was ridiculous and he wanted to just slap himself.

"Bucky!" She smiled and waved her fingers. "You made it."

He nodded. "I did."

A gust of wind blew and Bucky was overcome with the scent of vanilla, filling up his lungs. He realized that the scent was Eva and he couldn't remember smelling something so nice before. He watched her tuck her short hair behind her ear, which were starting to turn red from the cold. He gave her a quick once-over from head to toe, not to be creepy but just quickly analyzing her. Eva looked nice; she wore a sweater dress and thick leggings with boots, and a coat over the attire. Of course, she lacked a hat and scarf. She looked nice, and he knew that it was because she was meeting her favorite author; he couldn't relate to how she felt, but Bucky understood.

He suddenly felt very self conscious, and could feel himself shrink beneath his clothes. He really wished he had shaved earlier.

"I'm so excited," Eva couldn't wipe the permanent grin off her face. Bucky noticed that she had a dimple on the left side of her mouth. Her hands held her face as she gushed on and her brown eyes were bright. "I couldn't sleep at all last night!"

This made Bucky smile, just a little bit. There was something about the air around her that suddenly made him feel a fraction better.

"Do you want to go inside then?" He pointed his thumb to the entrance.

She nodded quickly, pulling her purse up over her shoulder. "Let's go."

Warmth greeted them when they went inside and Bucky was surprised to see how many people were already there. The majority of them were teenage girls; he grimaced as he remembered that group of teens from a few weeks ago. If there was something that he hated more than Hydra, than Natasha pestering him, than Fury treating him like a child, was teenagers. They were always wild and rogue and just _annoying_. He couldn't understand how they were so fascinated with the latest trends and media. It was just a bunch of crap, really.

Eva groaned. "There's a line."

That made Bucky groan, too, not because of Eva was impatient to get her book signed, but because that meant the endless chatter in the air would last forever when they were going to wait.

He tried to be a little positive for sake, even though he wasn't. "It's alright. She's not going anywhere."

She twisted her mouth to the side in thought before looking up at him with a pleasant expression. "Okay."

While they stood in line, Eva rummaged through her purse, brows pinching together as she searched for her copy of Kelly Keaton's book. Bucky had to wonder why women basically hoarded useless things into their bags; what was so important in that little bag of tricks? Eva found the book within the mess and made a happy noise. She held it to her chest and bounced on her toes, trying to look over and ahead to see whether or not the line was moving.

Bucky noticed her impatience through her body language; that and the constant pursing of her lips.

He set his right hand on her shoulder to keep her from fidgeting. "You're going to see her."

"I know," she sighed dramatically. "But this line is moving at the speed of a foot per hour."

Bucky snorted. "I doubt that."

"Figuratively speaking, Bucky" she laughed. "Figuratively speaking."

This made Bucky want to roll his eyes, but he didn't out of courtesy. He knew that Eva just overcome with excitement. He didn't really understand her excitement all too well, but he accepted the quirkiness.

However, as time dragged on, even Bucky had succumbed to the fever of impatience. As Eva had previously said, the line really felt like it was moving a foot per hour. He looked over the heads of the people in front of them, and even though the people at the front of the line were blocking the view of the author, he could see them chatting away. Bucky had a better view than Eva of how fast the line was moving, mostly due to the fact that he was four inches taller than she was. Bucky remembered in his days of doing Hydra's dirty work, that he'd wait for hours on end in the same position before proceeding to exterminate his targets. This, though, was different.

Bucky would clench and unclench his fists, swaying back and forth on his heels. He could hear chattering from behind him and something burning the back of his head. He strained his ears and craned his neck slightly.

"... tall and dark… think he's single?"

"No… no, I don't think so. He's with… _that_."

Then there were giggles, high pitched and annoying.

"Jeez, who cuts their hair like that?"

"... must be a dyke." Then there was more snickering.

It didn't take a genius to understand what the two people were talking about, rather _who_ they were speaking of. Bucky could feel himself darken up for some unknown reason, and without letting Eva notice him, Bucky looked back over his shoulder and let his darkened eyes settle over two blonde girls. They had stopped their cackling and looked up to the super-soldier, swallowing back their rude humor and paling at the glare that Bucky was shooting at them. If looks could kill, the two girls would be dead on the spot. He turned back around, satisfied when the chattering behind him and Eva stopped. He was relieved that Eva seemed to be unphased, just impatient.

It seemed like ages when Bucky and Eva became second in line, and that was when Eva seemed to have lost her sense of sanity.

"Holy crap," she breathed, nails digging into the book she clutched. "_Holy crap_."

It was all a bit alarming for Bucky, mostly because he wasn't sure how to react to her freaking out.

"Are you okay?" He hesitated when asking.

She shook her head, trying to swallow air. "I think I'm going to have an aneurysm. I'm only twenty-four and I'm about to have cardiac arrest."

At least Bucky knew that she was just overreacting, but still, he wasn't sure how to deal with her current state of being.

"We can still run for it-"

"What?" Bucky looked down at the short-haired, wide-eyed girl. "Not too long ago you were saying that the line was moving too slow. Now you want to bail?"

"I'd rather _not_ throw up in front of someone I admire."

"Don't be-"

"Who's next?" A voice called.

Eva froze and Bucky looked up to see a woman sitting at the table. She had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and glasses perched up on her nose, pen ready to sign her name on the copies of works. She also had a warm smile. This was Kelly Keaton.

Bucky pushed Eva gently at the small of her back, and he thought that the girl must have forgotten how to walk all of a sudden. She still managed to move to stand right in front of the table.

"Hi," the author said, smile still etched onto her face.

Eva's mouth opened and closed, suddenly dry. She managed to squeak out, "Hello."

Bucky thought this was amusing, but he kept the amusement hidden to himself. Eva still seemed paralyzed from where she stood, and Bucky somehow felt the burden of responsibility to do something about the situation.

"This is Eva," he spoke abruptly, taking the book out of her hands and setting it before Ms. Keaton. "She's a fan of your works."

"Oh, I hope you've been enjoying them," the woman told her with warmth, opening up the cover of the book and setting her pen onto the parchment inside.

Eva seemed to snap out of her trance and nodded. "Oh, yes! Yes, I just… I can't put your books down."

Keaton laughed, scribbling her autograph. She had asked Eva what she would like to her to write within the cover, and Eva responded that anything would be fine. The two women talked amongst themselves, and Bucky suddenly found himself standing off to the side, arms crossed, excluded from the little bubble. He watched them, particularly Eva who was starting to relax and could see the brightness radiate off her brown orbs. She looked as if she was talking to an old friend and somehow everything seemed to mute, and all he could do was just watch her. Her body language, her little habits, the way she'd laugh or push back the strands of hair from her face. Bucky paid all of his attention to her; he followed every movement of hers, every shift was seen in slow motion.

There were times when Bucky was in combat, and everything seemed to slow down. His heart, his mind, his opponent, sound and sight. He'd foresee everything and move within the timestream and wait for the right moment to throw a punch. Watching Eva was like this; he knew when she was about to sneeze by the smallest shift of her nose, when her fingers twitched to scratch the itch on her collarbone. He could see all of her.

"So, is this your boyfriend?" The bubble had popped and Bucky was thrown back to the Earth.

He shifted his gaze, which was of surprise, towards Ms. Keaton, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He darted his eyes over to Eva, who looked just as surprised. It was moments like these when Bucky couldn't really see all of her; he couldn't see or figure out the thoughts in her head. And this was when Bucky wished he could foresee what she was going to say.

Eva only smiled and shook her head. "Oh, no, Bucky's a friend."

The author's face went from a grin to a small smile, and she nodded her head. "Oh, sorry, my mistake."

"It's fine," Bucky answered before Eva could.

There was something in his chest, something beating hard against his ribs and lungs, but it didn't feel like his heart. It felt like something else. His gaze shifted to his feet and he tried not to steal a glance at her, but he wanted to. He wanted to read the expression on her face.

Eva had gotten her book signed and thanked the author again. The two left the Barnes & Noble, Bucky expressionless and Eva with a grand smile on her face.

"Thanks, Bucky," Eva turned to him, looking at him with her usual smile.

He looked down at her, and felt the corners of his lips turn up slightly. "Anytime."

"I think if I went alone, I probably would've ended up embarrassing myself or something," she spoke truthfully.

"I'm starting to think that it would've been very likely."

"I know, that's why I'm thanking you."

Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled a little to himself. She was so weird, he thought, but it was a nice kind of weird. They sort of strolled around the busy streets, neither of them objecting to it. They were quiet, but that was fine, and Bucky was starting to appreciate the sounds of D.C. as well as the sights. Bucky walked slightly behind Eva, almost like a lost puppy. She seemed to enjoy the city, too. Bucky looked to his left, slowing down in his tracks as he gazed through the window of a busy bakery. The smell of cakes and breads wafted in the air every time someone opened the door. Eva stopped walking, too, looking from Bucky to the shop.

"Did you want to buy something?" She asked him.

He turned to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There was a lot of people, he noticed, but the smell of freshly baked brownies was luring him.

"I think I'd like a brownie," he admitted, looking away. He suddenly felt like a wimp. The Winter Soldier was won over by pastries.

Eva blinked, watching the tough guy persona be broken down by his sudden craving for a brownie. She couldn't help but smile and asked Bucky to wait outside, going inside the bakery before he could answer. He scratched his head and sighed, watching her beeline through the small crowd of customers through the window. He saw a man take some wax paper and pick up one of the pastries from the glass case; Eva exchanged a five dollar bill for the brownie. She was back outside in less than four minutes from what Bucky was counting.

"Here," she gave him a small paper bag.

"You shouldn't have bought me that."

"Yeah, well, consider it as payment for the coffee and accompanying me today."

He rolled his eyes, taking the brownie out of the small bag. He broke it in half and offered it to Eva was trying to decline.

"Bucky-"

"Just take the damn brownie," he smirked.

She blew air out from her cheeks before taking it. "Thanks."

Bucky took a bite out his half and tried not to think too much about how good it was, but he couldn't help it. The enjoyment was evident on his face and he finished the rest of it.

"Would it be bad if we bought another?" He asked.

At this point he didn't care about being all tough and mean; the Winter Soldier really liked brownies.


	7. Plates Are Overrated

**Hey guys! Thank you all for the comments! Seriously your comments made me laugh so hard, holy crap! And I just love you all so much, ugh, it KILLS me. This chapter has been taking me forever, but DO NOT FRET, I organized myself and wrote outlines for the next 3 chapters! Yay! Anyway, HAPPY HALLOWEEN, and I actually turn 18 on the 30th so WOOT WOOT. I'll be legal! Except, I'll still be living with parents, but I do enjoy my mom's food so.. But anyway, I'm going to get busier these days, especially with college registration and whatnot. Thanks for reading and I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. Toodles!**

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**:) :)**

* * *

"It's not going to fit, Steve," Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw from impatience.

"Yes, it will!" The blond argued, straining his arms. "I paid good money for this couch, and by God, _it will make it through the door_."

"I'm with the Winter Soldier on this one, man," Sam said, sitting on the armchair by the window, scrolling through messages on his phone. "Thing's too big."

"You can at least help, you know," Bucky growled.

"I am helping," Sam was texting away. "I'm offering words of encouragement."

Eventually, with the constant nagging of Steve, Bucky made the decision to move out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base and into the apartment across from Steve. Of course, he had been reluctant; if he moved in, then Steve would pester him more; not that he had anything against Steve, just that the Winter Soldier enjoyed his peace and quiet. He had thought long and hard about it, thinking about the pros and cons to staying or leaving. When Bucky had his physical and therapy done earlier in the week, he brought the subject up.

* * *

"_Everything seems to be in order, James," the doctor said, piling all files neatly together before placing them within his folder. "Physical health is good."_

_Bucky had pulled his shirt back on, hopping off the table. The doctor asked him to sit down across from her desk while she typed away on her computer. He sat there picking away at the loose threads of his jeans, mind bubbling away with thoughts._

"_So, how has your month been, James?" she asked, folding her hands neatly on the desk._

_He gave the smallest hint of a shrug. "Fine."_

_She scribbles down nonsense in her notebook, before looking back up at him. "The nightmares… are they still present?"_

_He nodded. "Every night."_

"_Tell me about them."_

_Bucky swallowed thickly before speaking. "Hydra. It's always Hydra. Sometimes they're about Ste- I mean Captain Rogers. The train in the mountains, but most of the time they're of Hydra."_

_There was more scribbling. "How do you feel about them?"_

_Bucky can't help but snort. The doctor is unphased by the rude action, knowing that he was always like this about his dreams and mental health. It were always the questions that Bucky couldn't help but feel were unnecessary and a waste of time. He did respect S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctor and knew that they offered the best help, but God, did he think it was such a waste of time._

_Bucky laughed low and darkly to himself. "Memories of being picked apart and experimented on aren't something that someone wants to talk about. It sucks. Actually it's worse than that, it's traumatizing. I'm surprised that I'm not even losing my mind."_

"_Every time I close my eyes, they're there. All I can see is that bastard Zola and then that other worthless, piece of garbage Pierce. _

"_James, do you think you're holding back?" The doctor asked him. It was an abrupt and confusing question. _

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean," she took off her glasses and rubbed her aging eyes. "Do think that you're holding back the... the fears from your experiences, I should say?"_

_Bucky furrowed his brows. "I... don't know."_

_"Have you lashed out at anyone because of stress?"_

_"I... I suppose I have." _

_The doctor writes down some other notes, and Bucky catches a glimpse of 'may have anxiety' and 'questionable stability'. He tensed up; she thought he was crazy._

"_Relax, James," she said without looking up. "Have you been feeling anxious or irritable these past few weeks?"_

"_... yes?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I… the stress is making itself known this month. Paranoia… that, too, is making me feel…" He couldn't find the word._

"_Volatile?" The doctor suggested. _

_Bucky wasn't sure what the meant, but he guessed that it was probably a synonym of some sort relating to what he was feeling. _

"_I know we've discussed this in the past, and that you've always been reluctant, but I really do suggest we prescribe you with some sort of anxiety medication."_

_Bucky sighed, rolling his head back to rest against the back of the chair. "Doc-"_

"_Believe me, James," she said. "A lot of our agents deal with PTSD, and the majority of them take medication to deal with their stress. It may be of some use to you and your situation. With any luck, it may help with your recurring dreams and flashbacks, lessening the stress."_

"_I don't know…"_

"_Tell you what," she brings up a small paper pad and begins to scribble the name of a prescription before ripping it off and handing it to Bucky. "I'll let you hold onto this prescription, and you can drop it off near some pharmacy, or have Captain Rogers do to for you, when you feel ready to take the medication."_

_He nodded, taking the slip of paper and folding it within his hands. After slipping it in his pocket, Bucky drew in a breath and released it as he got up from his seat, concluding his appointment. With his hand hovering over the door knob, he swallowed the hesitation down his throat and turned around to look at the doctor._

"_If I were to…" he scratched his neck, feeling his tongue swell up. He was suddenly apprehensive, which was something that seemed to happen a lot lately._

_The doctor looked up at him, brow raised. "To?"_

"_What if I were to move into an apartment?" He bit his tongue, waiting for her to slam her fist down and tell him no. "There's one up for rent across Captain Rogers' place and I was thinking..."_

_"Alright."_

_"I knew it was a long shot, thanks an-wait _what_?" He shot her incredulous look._

_"Why not? You mentioned that Captain Rogers is occupying the one across. This may help you in your steady recovery by allowing you to start venturing out into the world. Even I believe that it's a bit dreary at headquarters, might as well get into a bright environment."_

_Bucky scratched his head. Of all the answers he thought he would get, he didn't expect that._

* * *

And after a day of packing (Bucky didn't really have much to pack, save for some dishes, clothes, and few albums) he, Steve, and Sam were finally moving his furniture into the small apartment. They rented a moving truck and carried all the boxes up the stairs. The challenge was getting the bed and couch up, but due to the serum, the super-soldiers carried it with ease. But now the question: could they get the couch through the door?

"Face it, Rogers," Bucky tries to flip his hair from his eyes. "It's not going to get through the door. Let's just put it in storage or something."

"Absolutely not! This is a nice couch and I refuse to let it collect dust."

"Steve, it's just a couch."

"A four thousand dollar couch."

"Jeez, why would you spend so much money on it?"

"Well, sorry for wanting you to have nice furniture."

"I don't mean-jesus, Steve, can you get it through your head that we've wasted time trying to get this stupid thing in."

"Bucky-"

"Have you guys thought about taking off the legs?" Sam broke his silence while his eyes and thumbs never left his phone.

The two men stopped their bickering and looked at each other, then the couch, then to Sam and back to the couch. They groaned and Bucky had to set the couch down while Steve went over to his place to retrieve a screw driver. Another ten minutes and the couch was finally in the living room. Steve was lying on the floor from exhaustion, even though it was mostly Bucky doing the heavy lifting, and Sam had his eyes closed with his hands folded in his lap. Bucky screwed the legs back on and set the couch to rest on the floor.

He nudged Steve with his foot so he could move out of the way. "Come on, Rogers, up and at 'em."

The blond waves an arm at him. "No, let me lie here."

"You haven't even done much," Sam said with his eyes still closed.

"Speak for yourself," Bucky scoffed. "Now either one of you helps me or beat it."

Immediately, Sam stood up and crossed the room to the door, quickly bidding his goodbye and telling the two men to have a nice day with a laugh. Bucky sighed and looked back down to the floor where Steve still lay.

"Help me, will you?" Bucky grabbed his shoulder and lugged him up.

After pushing and pulling, turning and observing where exactly the couch should face, Bucky settled on having it face the window. Outside the window was the bustling streets, and the skyscrapers were greeting Bucky by shining their lights as the sun started to set. Bucky set to plugging in the lamps and record player, setting up a clock on the wall; he didn't set up the television, though, seeing that he still wouldn't using it anytime soon. Steve left a while later, claiming that he had a date with Sharon at the movies, and Bucky found himself in quiet solace.

Setting the needle onto a record of old jazz, Bucky got to work opening boxes and placing them in their correct places. He wasn't really one for decorating, but he felt that he needed to do something with his hands before he went insane. There wasn't really much for him to work with, just a few simple knick-knacks, a small painting and books. He opened up the box containing all his silverware and china, putting it it in the drawers and cupboards. There was something about the sound of ceramic hitting ceramic that was a bit soothing, and Bucky breathed in time everytime he set a bowl or plate down in a neat pile. On one of the plates he noticed that it had a dried, orange stain that hadn't been washed off properly, his mind lingering to that curry Natasha had brought over some nights ago. He went to turn the faucet on and let the water run over the plate while opening up another box that had cleaning supplies. He found a sponge and soap and tried to scrape off the stain. The lemony scent of the detergent wafted in the air around him and his head started to ache. It wasn't something he liked, and he remembered his mother always using-

Bucky dropped the plate in the sink, digging his palm into his eye and gritted his teeth from the the pain setting off in his head. Behind his closed eyes he could see apartment buildings in the night sky, covered by lace curtains and his mother's hands covered in soap, handing him a plate to dry. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes back up, looking down to see his own hands, wet and covered in suds. The plate had chipped, but the stain was gone. He washed his hands off and dried them along with the plate and set it on top of the stack in the cupboard. He drew another breath in, and all he could think of was his mother. From the memory, Bucky guessed that doing the dishes with her was a regular activity before the war. A thought occurred to him of what had happened to her, and he felt an unusual pang his chest before quickly his thoughts to finish unpacking.

With everything in its designated place, the super-soldier sighed and dipped himself onto the couch, looking out the window. He admitted to himself that this may have been a good decision, leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. and holding down his own place. With the source of income provided from S.H.I.E.L.D.-despite the fact that he literally did nothing- he could pay the apartment's rent and go out and buy his own food. At the thought, he craned his head to the look at the fridge in the kitchen. He didn't have any food except for a few carrots and eggs, but that was about it. Considering that he didn't exactly eat much except for his cups of coffee, the assassin would have to eat at some point.

He tried to look through the pantry and of course, there was only cereal, some saltine crackers, and two packages of ramen. With the lack of milk, he couldn't have a bowl of cereal, and he was sure to somehow ruin the ramen. Even the water could go up in flames.

Bucky munched on the crackers and sat back down on his couch, staring out the window. The crackers were dry and brittle; it was like he was chewing up dust in his mouth. He nearly choked when his phone's shrill ring startled him. He set the crackers on the table and dug his phone out of his pocket, breathing in a sharp breath when he saw it was Eva.

Swallowing thickly, he answered the phone, but before he could even utter a greeting he heard her say, "Do you like chinese takeout?"

"Hello, to you,too." He couldn't help but smile when he heard her laugh into the phone. "I guess so. Why do you ask?"

"Long story short, I have boxes of lo mein getting cold on my counter and you seem to be capable of helping me devour boxes of heart disease and high cholesterol."

"Well, if you put it that way," Bucky had to stifle back a chuckle. _Since when did he ever chuckle?_ "Alright. Fine. Whatever. I'll eat your boxes of cholesterol."

Bucky could tell she was grinning from her side of the call. "Awesome. Do you know where that pawn shop is? By 124th and Parker?"

He pursed his lip. "I think so." He was still learning the roads and buildings, and at this point he knew enough of the metro area.

"Well, there's some apartments right above it, just buzz my name."

"I… o-okay."

"Alright, see you then!"

"Yeah. See… you. I'll see you, uh… bye, I'll see you." It was almost as if has tongue was swelling up in his mouth.

Eva laughed. "Bye, Bucky."

She hung up and Bucky still had his phone held to his ear. When he set it down beside him, he flung his back dramatically against the couch with a sigh. He rubbed his face with his hands, stomach doing somersaults and his mind yelling at him. Why was he always doing this? Why was he always getting into these sociable situations?

"God _dammit_," he muttered.

* * *

Bucky stood outside the pawnshop on 124th and Parker, hands set deep into his pockets as he stared up at the brick covered apartments that seemed to have seen better days. On his walk to Eva's apartment, he left the safety and security, marching into streets that were housing the young woman and he saw and heard more.

The further he ventured into town, the more he heard of sirens echoing throughout the streets, and he heard people yelling and shouting in their town homes. The further into town, the more he saw people pushing carts of belongings they couldn't part with or wearing dirty clothes of an unpleasant odor; he saw women wearing nothing but skirts and crop tops and bright, caked makeup being eyed by men, and men or women pulling bags of white powder or pill bottles out of their oversized jackets in exchange for money. There was graffiti splattered everywhere he went, and unlike the stores around where Steve and he lived, these stores had bars on the windows.

And here Bucky was, standing at the corner of the street where 124th met Parker, staring up at the building, wondering which window was Eva's. The door to the apartments was set between the pawnshop and a convenience store and he went up the two concrete steps. Of course, the door, too, was had bars and could only be opened by a key. This whole side of D.C. was unsettling and Bucky had a hard time believing that this was where Eva resided. He hoped that he had somehow gotten lost and she accidentally told him the wrong streets, and that she actually lived on 135th and Barker. Except Bucky honestly doubted that there was a street called Barker anywhere near the city.

Blowing out the air from his cheeks, Bucky climbed the steps and to the right of him was an intercom with a list of all the residents. Eva was the eighth name on the list, apartment thirty-one. With a sharp inhale and speedy exhale, he pressed the button by her name for a few seconds and waited.

"Hello?" Eva's voice sounded after a buzz. _Oh, God, she _does _live here._

"Hey… hey, it's me," he said, feeling his heart in his throat.

"Bucky! Hey, I'll buzz you in. I'm on the second floor."

With that, there was another shrill buzzing and Bucky pushed on the door and it easily swung open. He stepped inside the building, taking in his surroundings. The walls were this horrible green and the lights were this hazy orange that struggled to stay lit. There was an elderly woman sifting through her envelopes by all the mailboxes; she eyed him carefully and Bucky tried to shutter. Her eyes were this unnerving blue that made Bucky feel like she was peeling his skin off. In front of him were the stairs and he took them two at a time, hand holding onto the metal railing to keep his balance.

He got to the second floor and breathed out the breath he was holding. He flicked his eyes from side to side in search for her door. Every door was the same; they were all white, the paint peeling off, and each had gold numbers nailed on. Bucky finally came to the last door at the very end of the hall, where the side of the building face out to the open street. The door on the right was like all the other doors, except for the fact that it was missing gold numbers and had thirty-one painted on. He raised his hand to rap his knuckles lightly against the door and it opened at the third rap.

Eva's short strands of hair were askew and she was wearing her glasses. Her lips turned up in a smile and she opened the door wider.

"Hey! In. Now. I'm hungry."

He quirked his brow, stepping inside. "Please tell me you weren't waiting for me."

"And if I did?" She shut the door and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater.

He shrugged, standing in the hallway, afraid to step into the rest of the apartment. _Afraid_? It echoed in his head. He didn't really think that this was a situation to be afraid of. After all, this was Eva. She invited him to her apartment eat lo mein and get high cholesterol, and she was being polite and it wouldn't be as if she had poisoned the food; she has no disdain towards him.

He was afraid to be in her apartment. Crap.

"Do you want me to take your jacket?" She nodded towards his him.

"Oh. Oh, sure, thanks." He handed her his jacket, thankful that he was wearing a sweater, quickly stuffing his left hand in his pocket as she hung his coat on the rack on the door.

"Kitchen is here," Eva went through the door, and Bucky had no choice but to follow.

Her kitchen was small and cramped, but the appliances and lighting weren't so bad. Peering over her shoulder to the small kitchen table, Bucky was, for the umpteenth time that month, surprised.

"Why are there so many boxes of food?" He stepped around her, staring at boxes of orange chicken and rice.

"Yeah, about that…" she rubbed her forehead and took off her glasses. "I may or may not have accidentally ordered fifteen boxes instead of three."

He turned to give her a look that said, _What?_

She blew air out from her puffed up cheeks and held her hands up in defense. "Hey, you try saying numbers in mandarin."

"Why would you even order in mandarin? Please tell me english wasn't too hard."

"I wanted to see if I could do it."

Bucky turned back towards the table. "At least you won't go hungry for a while."

She laughed behind him, opening a drawer to pull out two forks. She handed him the two and took two glasses from a drying rack. She asked Bucky if he wanted water and he politely accepted, holding the forks close to him as he watched her pull out a pitcher from the fridge.

"In the kitchen or the living room?" Eva asked.

"I… your call."

"We could watch some re-runs while we eat?"

"Sure."

Eva's living room was to the right of the kitchen table and he helped carry the boxes into the room. Her living room was small too, like her kitchen. The one thing that struck him was the piano in the corner, then the shelves and shelves of books. The windows were open, letting cold air in and the lace curtains flutter. There was also a television across the couch, and the couch was floral and old, something out of a picture of a fifties home. He set the food on the coffee table and crossed the room to shut the windows by the piano, and the curtains settled. Bucky shifted his attention to the piano. It was old, just like everything else in the apartment, but when Bucky pressed a key, it rang like it was freshly tuned. He looked up, expecting Eva to pop out from the kitchen, but she didn't.

He sat down on the bench, running his right hand over the keys before pressing down on them, playing a little melody that kept running through his head. He hit some notes that didn't belong, only he corrected them and he closed his eyes, quietly playing.

"Are you playing _Pastel Garden_?" Eva held the rest of the boxes. "By Brian Crain?"

He quickly stopped and stood up, nearly knocking the bench over, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

She smiled, "He's one of my favorites."

He nodded, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a box Eva held out for him. "Do you mind if I take the other boxes home?"

A look of relief washed over her face. "Can you, please?"

His smirk turned into a grin, and he pulled his sleeve down to cover his left hand to hold the box, because it was hot and so she wouldn't be able to glance at the metal. He stood by the window, looking out and munching on his food while Eva pulled out a DVD from her collection. The fork slipped from his hands, clattering beside his feet, and he stooped down to pick it up. Movement from the other corner of the living room caught his eye, and Bucky looked up to see a large, fat blob of fur with two sunken eyes staring back at him, laying on a cushion.

"Eva?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?" Bucky rose up slowly, not able to take his eyes off of the thing staring back at him.

"And what may that be?"

"What _is_ that?"

Eva followed his gaze and had to look over the couch; she laughed lightly to herself.

"Oh, that's Archie."

"Archie?" Bucky looked at the creature with his brows raised.

"My dog. I've had him since I was twelve; he's old. He's blind in one eye and losing his hearing."

Bucky nodded. _Wow, _he thought, _she ordered fifteen boxes of chinese takeout and has a blob for a dog._


	8. Vanilla

**Thanks for all the comments and happy birthday wishes! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter; it's a couple hundred words shorter than the usual chapters but I really do like this one. Anyway, thanks for the comments and I hope you guys keep those coming! :)**

* * *

"Are you getting tired?" Steve looked at his friend with a smirk.

Bucky snorted, trying to keep up his pace on their jog. Well, it wasn't so much as a jog as more of a marathon because of their unnatural speed around the park. He didn't want to admit it, but Bucky's calf muscles were screaming for him to stop and take a break, which was another piece of evidence that Bucky was, indeed, out of shape.

After Steve's insistent knocking on his front door that morning, Bucky was forced to open up with a scowl on his face and to put on his running shoes and sweatshirt. They were taking laps around the The Mall in the early morning, and very few people were around. It didn't cause Bucky to be overly cautious, and the cold air helped him wake up from the sleep-the nightmares, really- that was still in his eyes.

"No, are you?" Bucky retorted.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve replied, "Yeah, right. I must be faster you, then."

"In your _dreams_, gramps."

"You're the same age as me."

"So?"

"Well, you're forgetting that I had the serum."

"I had the serum, too, idiot."

"You won't let me have my moment, will you?"

"You've had your moment many times. Remember New York?"

There was a pause, and then he sighed. "Okay, you got me."

The two men ran for another fifteen minutes in silence. Bucky let his mind drift as he ran, focusing on the way he was breathing and how his feet hit the ground, how far apart his legs were from each other. In a way, he did appreciate Steve dragging him out of the warmth of his bed (which made the blond seem a bit cruel). Running made him feel free, it made him forget everything. Nightmares, memories, shitty days filled with stress and terrible anxiety. They didn't exist when all he could feel was the air whipping around his face.

"So are you going to tell me about the other night or not?" Steve panted, turning to look at his friend.

Bucky nearly faltered in his step, shooting the blond a rather annoyed look. So much for running in peace.

"What's there to know?"

"Come on," Steve tried to prod the soldier. "You were with Eva."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and from Bucky's silence, Steve knew that he was right.

With a sly grin, he asked, "What'd you guys do?"

He groaned. "Okay, first of all, none of your business. Second of all, how'd you even _know_ that I was gone? I thought you were on your date."

"I _was_ on my date. I went home early, though; Sharon ate some bad nachos which I _knew_ were a bad idea, but she ate them anyway despite what I said and, God, she should've listened and we would've found out what had happened at the end of the mov-"

"Steve."

"-ie and… Oh, right, anyway. I came back home, and I thought I'd check up on you, but when I went to your apartment, you weren't there. Of course, I panicked, thought something happened, but then I remembered your girl."

"She's _not_ my girl. And how the hell did you get in my apartment?"

"Spare key."

Bucky's side glance of irritation made Steve's grin grow wider. "Punk."

"Jerk."

Bucky could see the little twinkle in Steve's eyes at the exchange of the familiar, yet childish, insults.

"So what did you two do?" He gave Bucky a look. The blond wasn't about to let this go.

"Don't you give me that look. We weren't doing anything."

"So you guys weren't… smooching?"

"_Jesus_, Steve. What's wrong with you? I was having dinner at her place."

Their run had gradually turned into a walk. Steve could feel the exasperation radiating off the brunet. He stole another look through the corner of his eye and tried to suppress the smile. Even though Bucky kept putting barriers up around the mention of Eva, Steve knew that there was a change, despite that it was significantly miniscule, inside him. A nice change. He wasn't as reserved like he originally was some months ago; Bucky had a tiny spark that had been ignited. And Steve knew that gradually, with his exposure to society, i.e. Eva, Bucky would be changing for the better.

Hopefully. _Hopefully._

However there was something strange about Bucky whenever the girl was brought up. Or rather he acted strange. He got defensive. He became hard as stone. He shied away. All because of a librarian. If he was acting in such a way, then Steve could only assume that…

"You like her."

Bucky stopped in his track, narrowing his eyes into slits so small that Steve thought that his eyes were closed.

"No. No, I don't."

"But-"

"No. No. _No_."

"Come on, it's clear as glass."

"Not unless you have a dirty glass," he retorted, resuming their walk.

Steve blocked his path. "But you said that you're fond of her!"

"Yeah. _Fond_. Very different from liking," he shot back as he nudged the captain aside.

Steve sighed, taking that as an end to the subject and strolled along with him. They never went back to their run, only walked. The sun rose higher into the sky and more people started to come to the Mall as tourists or joggers. There were people in their cars driving to their jobs, places they had to be. Steve. He had somewhere to be, a job with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Bucky had… well, he had no where to be. He had books, records, a couch, and a library card to occupy his time. Even if he moved across from Steve, that didn't take away his days filled will nothing.

Unless he took up that job offer from Steve. Then maybe he'd have _something _to do. He wouldn't be so damn bored. Bucky could be out _there_ with Steve kicking Hydra ass. But for the moment, he would keep going to the library and argue more on how Daisy was using Gatsby with Eva or beat Sam in something as stupid as arm wrestling. He'd probably keep getting himself into weird meetups with Eva and…

"Holy _shit_," Bucky hissed, backing away and running towards a tall bunch of bushes.

Steve looked at him as if he had grown another head. He ran up to his friend, who hopped over the bushes and ducked beneath them, crouching low and out of sight. Steve peered over the large plants with confusion splayed across his face.

"Are you going to explain what you're doing?"

With a woosh, Bucky grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him over the bushes, making him fall beside him with a grunt. He held the blond by his shoulder and clamped his other hand against his mouth.

"_Shut up_," Bucky whispered urgently. "Don't let her hear you!"

Steve shoved his hand away from his face. "What are you talking about? Don't let who hear me?"

Bucky slowly rose his head from behind the bushes, his eyes filled with fear. Fear. There it was again, infecting him like a parasite. He hated being afraid, but in this case, it didn't matter because he actually had a reason to be. Steve followed Bucky's movements and rose his to look over the bushes, following his gaze. A few meters away, where some trees and benches were, was a young woman sitting down with a book in her lap. Steve raised a brow, still confused, but when he looked at Bucky again, realization dawned his face.

"That's her," he said with a small smile. "That's Eva, isn't it?"

He only nodded, never taking his eyes off her. His heart was going fifty miles an hour, but he didn't have time to question it. She had her reading glasses on, and a backpack resting beside her, and Bucky could only guess that maybe she had classes today.

"We need to leave," Bucky said all of a sudden.

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't want her to see you!"

"Why not?"

Bucky pushed Steve's head down when he tried to stand. "I'm not letting _Captain America_ waltz right up to her. You're going home."

"Oh, come on, Buck…"

"Sorry, but you're going home right _now_."

Steve sighed. The brunet was giving him a look of plead, and Steve could only submit to his friend's wishes.

He held his hands up as a message of defeat. "Fine, but you owe me a sandwich and a drink."

"Alright, now get out of here."

Steve gave him a smile and a mock salute, getting up and finishing his run towards Independence Avenue. Bucky slumped his shoulder with a sigh, leaning against the bushes. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Of all days, Steve just had to make him get up for a run on _this one_. He peered around the edge, seeing that Eva was still there in the same position; if it weren't for her flipping the pages of the book, Bucky would've thought she was a statue. Perfect stillness and focus. It made Bucky smirk and reminded him of his own missions and the hours of patience and being in the same position. Except Eva was reading instead of assassinating.

Big difference.

He wanted to crouch behind the bushes and stay there until she left, but who knew how long that would be. He knew the girl; she'd stay there for hours if she had a good book in her hands, and she looked like she was enjoying her time skimming and reading. Something in the back of his head wanted him to get up and go up to her. Say hello. Ask how she was or what she was reading. Bucky kind of wanted to.

He wanted to. 'Want' still felt foreign to him. Before he had abandoned Hydra, Bucky wasn't able to feel want or make any of his own decisions. Even if it had been several months, it was still hard to make a decision or actually want something. Whether Bucky had realized it or not since he had met Eva, he made his own decisions. He called the shots. He actually _wanted_ to follow his own thoughts-not the Soldier's thoughts, his _own_. Bucky's thoughts.

Which was why Bucky got up, brushed the leaves and dead grass from his running shorts, and left his spot from the bushes. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, walking towards Eva. His head was controlling his legs, but his gut was telling him to run for it, save him from whatever unrealistic fear. It was too late, though, because his mouth started to move.

"Eva."

She smiled right before she looked up, recognizing his voice. She took off her glasses and folded them. "Good morning."

He didn't have a reason as to why his throat ran dry. "Morning."

"Enjoy your run?" Bucky shot her a confused look. "You have athletic wear on."

Bucky felt himself flush. "Oh… right."

Eva scooted over, making room for him to sit down beside her on the bench. He took the small invitation and sat down, trying to keep a safe distance between them. She crossed her legs, shutting her book closed and putting it to the side. Bucky noticed that for once she remembered to wear a hat and scarf. Her nose was pink from the chill in the air, and Bucky was starting to rethink his decision on wearing his shorts instead of track pants.

"Thanks… for dinner the other night," Bucky said. He wanted to fill the silence with… _something_, because he did, after all, walk over from his hiding spot.

Eva tried to hide her smile. "I should probably be thanking you. You pretty much saved me from eating takeout for the next week or so."

He laughed a bit. He did appreciate the food; it kept him from having to cook for a few days, and Bucky really didn't mind eating the same thing for a while. When he was under Hydra's control, he ate the same, bland food day in and day out-that is when Hydra actually remembered to feed him.

"It's not that bad," Bucky told her.

Eva made a look of distaste and he couldn't help but notice the way her nose crinkled.

"I only resort to it if an emergency. That case was just because I forgot to go grocery shopping and it was late at night."

Bucky tried to stomp down the feeling of ferment at her words, but a bit glad that she chose to stay inside her apartment. If he could, he'd try to pick apart her brain to figure out how she even ended up living in such an area. Money, he guessed. After taking in the environment and the quality of her possessions and home, it just had to be money. Bucky didn't know how much librarians were paid, but whatever money she was making was helping her keep a roof over her head.

Eva caught the soldier's attention when she stood up, picking her backpack up from the ground by the strap. "Sorry to cut this short, but I really need to catch the three-twenty. Class starts a quarter to nine."

"Three-twenty? The bus?"

She gave him a funny look. "Is there any other way?"

"Oh," Bucky felt a bit stupid. "I sort of assumed you drove."

She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "I don't… drive. Public transportation. Always there for me."

He had to stop the frown from taking over his face. She took public transportation and lived in a rundown neighborhood. Did she have _any_ regard for her own safety?

"I'll walk you." He stood up and took her backpack from her, slinging It over his shoulder.

"Bucky, you don't need to-"

"I want to," he said lightly, giving her a half-smile to assure her that it was alright. "I'm heading home anyway."

Eva arched her eyebrow, chewing on her lip and Bucky could tell that she felt a bit guilty when she eyed her bag in his grip. Eventually, she sighed and gave in with a smile, letting the Winter Soldier walk her to the bus stop.

* * *

_The pounding of Bucky's heart and sound of blood rushing through his veins impaired his ability to hear anything else. And his eyes were clouded from smoke, while his skin was reddening from the heat in the room. Flames licked at him and the wounds on his arms and neck bubbled with the sting of the torridity of the warehouse. Even the dog-tags on around his neck were heating up and scathing his chest through his shirt. _

_But the fire… the endless fire below him was all he could think about, as well as the careful steps he took across the fallen beam to where there was escape. The explosions wracked the facility and Bucky thought his heart was going to burst through his chest when the beam started to descend slowly. His legs were as heavy as lead and he hoped to whatever power on earth that he could get to the other side. It wasn't just him, he had hoped, but the kid he had thought was touring America, singing and dancing. Bucky turned back to look at Steve, who looked just as hopeful while he stood from the opposite direction of the beam, urging the brunet to go on._

_Steve's eyes were saying, "Go on, you can make it. I _believe _in you."_

_The beam, however, shook and began to fall into the pit of fire and Bucky had no choice but to run. He made the jump, his foot catching onto the ledge and his hand tried to grab onto the railing, but his fingertips only brushed the hot metal. And with a gasp, Bucky fell, and he can hear Steve's screams for him as he fell into the endless pit of flames._

_It wasn't supposed to end like this, Bucky thought. _

_But instead of hitting the flaming floor, his back hit cold metal. Bucky tried to move his arms and legs, but they were bound by leather straps. He smelled something that was metallic and rusty, making his stomach turn with a terrible pain on his left arm. He tried to flex his left hand, but he couldn't… he couldn't feel _anything_. His eyes pricked and he tried to crane his head to his side. It was gone. Bucky's left arm was missing, and all that was left were the nerves and the bone of his shoulder peeking out, covered in blood the seeped out and drenched his body and the table. He opened his mouth, a pained and shocked scream clawing out from the inside of his throat and out into the open room._

_A cold, unwelcoming hand held his right shoulder and he darted his crazed eyes to an unfriendly man. _

"_You will shape the century," he hissed, teeth bared in a vicious smile while his glasses-clad eyes stared into Bucky's frightened ones._

_The pain was too much and Bucky closed his eyes, trying to shut out the vision of the man with glasses. He gritted his teeth and a wet warmth, tears he realized, rolled down his dirty cheeks and into his mouth which gaped every now and then when there were spasms of pain. He tasted the saltiness from his hot waterworks. And the pain went from the tearing of his arm to electricity. Electricity surged through his body, through his head. He was so overcome with the incredible pain that Bucky's eyes flew open, eyes threatening to bulge out and pop like grapes. All he could see were the lights above him, so strong and bright that he couldn't see the green room. He couldn't see the cold, piercing blue eyes that were sneering down at Bucky's convulsing body which were wracking with screams._

_And then it was over. All of it was over, the electricity, the eyes bearing down at him, the fire, the cold table. All of it was gone. But the pain was still there; he could still feel the pain tearing apart every muscle, every shred of life in him. Bucky wanted to die. He wanted to die, either by a bullet to the head or by a cyanide pill. He didn't care as long it ended._

_Footsteps echoed and every limb in his body went rigid with fear that they had come back to him, to resume their torture, their experimentation. And then he felt whoever kneel beside him, and the person brought a scent that instantly set him at ease, at peace. The aroma was familiar, lovely, like vanilla. Then there were the hands, soft and warm and welcoming, touching his face and running through his tangled, sweaty hair. He cried. He didn't know why, but he started to cry. The hands moved and caressed his face and wiped away the tears._

_Bucky's pain seemed to lessen at her touch. Her. She. This person who smelled of vanilla was a she. And every gentle touch she laid on his face, he would lean into it. He yearned for something so gentle as she._

"_It's okay," her voice met his ears like satin. It was soothing and filled with warmth. "It's okay."_

"_It hurts," he could barely whisper. _

_She knelt close to Bucky, and he felt arms-her arms- wrap around him and pull him close. She was warm and her scent was stronger near her hair, which was where it met the nape of her neck. He leaned his face into her scalp, inhaling and feeling his heart slow, relaxed. He moved his arms, flesh and what was now metal, and wrapped them around her small body as if she would slip away. He wanted nothing more than to stay just like this. _

"_I'm here," she whispered._

* * *

Bucky was alone, covered in a thin sheet of sweat. And he was alone, with the ticking clock and his breathing. His bedroom was warm as well as his bed, but he was cold and shaking. His tired eyes flicked up to the digital clock on the nightstand, flashing green numbers. It was three in the morning.

He took in a shaky breath and exhaled it, turning his head to dig his head in his pillow and pulled his blanket up closer to him. He shut his eyes, going back to sleep.

All he could think of was a soft voice and the smell of vanilla.


End file.
